Days to Come
by chris400ad
Summary: Harry Potter, famed auror and Boy-Who-Lived, was hoping after having won the war and got the girl he would find some peace. But life had other ideas. See how his life fell apart and how one simple chance encounter could change everything. Post-War and Non-epilogue compliant.
1. Trust Issues

Chapter One: Trust Issues

Harry Potter knew more than most that life was less than fair. With a childhood filled with contemptuous, unloving relatives, he had managed to escape into the magical world. The world in which he felt he belonged, but was alternately lauded as a hero or viewed with suspicion and jealousy. Add on top of that yearly attempts on his life and it was no wonder that he had been left with no misconceptions that life was in anyway fair.

Nobody could have blamed him for growing up to be a cynic. But instead the young wizard had, having won the war and gotten the girl, hoped that his life would finally balance out. He felt he deserved that much. Life, however, had different plans for him, because life wasn't fair.

He took off his glasses, rubbing his tired eyes before sliding the round-rimmed frames to their rightful position. A long time ago – or at least it felt that way – when he'd just been starting out, he had considered trying to find a mediwitch to fix his eyesight. There were treatments out there, muggle and magical, which could correct his vision. But he felt naked without his glasses, as he had grown up with them after all. They were as close to him as anything could be. Besides, not only did they have anti-summoning charms, they also had many other forensic capabilities that had helped him more than once at a crime scene.

"So, Harry, tell me, why are you here today?" Eliza Carnell, a patient smile on her pretty face. There was a calm confidence about her that he had only ever seen in people much older than either of them. He was forcibly reminded of the way Dumbledore used to talk to him, calm and confident, self-assured and always in control. A thick black notebook lay open on the table beside Eliza, a quill hovering just above it ready to take notes. Harry eyed the thing warily, remember all too well the last time a quill had been allowed to make notes on one of his discussions.

Eliza was a muggleborn healer who had worked exceptionally hard to get where she was. Along with several other healers, she started a program in St. Mungo's based off the work of muggle psychiatrists. It had taken years to persuade the more tradition-minded members of the board at the wizarding hospital. After the war, St. Mungo's had been flooded with patients with mental ailments which couldn't easily be fixed with a wave of a wand or noxious potion. Faced with such conditions, the hospital had finally agreed to accept more muggle-based therapies.

"You know why," Harry answered shortly. Everyone knew why. It had been in every paper and gossip magazine for a month, in the case of _Witch Weekly_ even longer. Private lives were something other people got to have. Not him. Not once. Not ever.

"What do you hope to gain from these sessions?" she asked apparently unmoved by his short temper.

"My job," he said shortly. The head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Michael Davis refused to let Harry back into work if he didn't see someone. He didn't need to see someone. He needed to get back to work, back to what he was good at, as it was all he had left now. But apparently he didn't even have that. Not until he jumped through the hoops Ministry guidelines said he had to get through.

"That's a typical reaction to what you're going through, Harry. You feel out of control, alone, you're angry and hurt. You've got every right to be. But work isn't the answer. It's just a distraction."

"It's all I have left."

"It's a distraction." Eliza said again, fixing him with a dark eyed stare. "The longer you use it as that the harder this will be. You need to face up to what has happened, it's only then that you have a chance to move on. So, tell me, how do you feel about what happened?"

"How would you feel?"

"This isn't about me, Harry," Eliza smiled patiently. "This is about you. If you don't want to tell me how you feel, then how about you tell me what happened?"

Harry sighed before he leaned forward in his chair, letting his hands fall between his knees as he looked at the woman in front of him. She didn't say anything, the quill had stopped its scratching, posed instead, ready for him to continue. He could be out there, doing his job, catching people. No, not people. Villains. Criminals. Not because it was his job or because it helped people. Not anymore. He wanted to do it because it would make him feel good. Better than he'd felt in a long time.

He stared at Eliza for a long moment while inside his mind a battle raged. What should he admit to and how much did she already know? His battered and yet somehow still resilient sense of privacy was warning him against saying a damn thing. But the fact was everyone had heard the stories, even though it had only been Ginny's side of it. Once they had heard that no one wanted to listen to his version. The public's sympathy had gone to Ginny, not the monster she had made him out to be. Yet, here was his chance to have his side of the story heard but without the mass-frenzy and media attention.

"I guess, it all started one night after work." He told Eliza, ignoring the scratching as the quill started its dictation. As the words began to tumble out of his mouth, Harry thoughts were on the long hours he had spent on the Raymond Nott case. All of the aurors assigned to it had pulled long shifts due to the horrific nature of the crimes. He'd killed six women and then left them displayed like trophies. He couldn't be allowed to just keep walking free a second longer than he already had. But after weeks and weeks it had finally been over. Nott had been arrested and Harry sent home early for some well-earned rest with his fiancée.

He remembered opening the door and seeing fallen clothes abandoned on the stair case. A white shirt, black trousers and a green skirt. He remembered staring. Not breathing. Not moving. Nothing. Just staring. A sense of disbelief overcame him. Washed over him and made everything else distant. His whole world seemed to crumble before him. His mind had gone blank. Even the steady heartbeat that hammered in his chest day upon day seemed to have died out. Gone that instant. Silence pressed on his ears, deafening him.

But the silence had been broken, shattered by a loud moan from the top of the stairs. Harry had found himself running up the stairs; his body moving before the sudden dread in the pit of his stomach had fully registered. The noise stopped. Panicked voices had taken their place. He remembered slamming open a door. Seeing them. Seeing him, one of the only men that could have made the situation worse. Harry's anger had kicked into overdrive. He hadn't even been aware of the punch until Ginny was screaming. The world had gone numb, hands wrapped around him. But he hadn't stopped. He ploughed on. Harder and harder with each punch. It was only after that he had been aware of the mess he had made of his hand and the man's face. There had been another shout. A different voice. One that filled the room, bellowed louder than the cries of Ginny or the man on the floor.

"And that's when you were stunned?" Eliza asked dragging Harry from the memory of the man's bloodied face; his pleas for mercy. He nodded. "You weren't charged?"

"No," Harry answered with a sigh. "If I'd been anyone else that would have been it. No one would have known but the aurors who arrived at the house. Instead the Prophet got hold of everything. I haven't been allowed back since."

"And when was that?"

"Three months ago."

Eliza nodded. "So, just to sum up, three months ago your long-term girlfriend cheated on you, you were then exposed to national humiliation and are only _now _just coming for help. But not for yourself. Instead you're here because you want your job back, not to move on. The simple fact of the matter, Harry, is that I can't do anything for you unless you actually want my help."

"I've dealt with worse," Harry said darkly. The truth was he had, the Dursley's had seen to that. Despite being there throughout so much of their time during Hogwarts, there were still so many things he had been unable to tell Ron and Hermione. Things he was never going to tell them. Things like the guilt he felt for all the people who had died buying him time to defeat Voldemort. He had even hidden the nightmares that had come after. Harry hadn't been able to bring himself to tell them his role in Dumbledore's plan and about the Horcrux that had been latched onto him. But that hadn't stopped him pushing on and moving forwards. The truth was he had come out the other side mostly intact. Why would this be any different?

But he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that this was different.

After the incident, Ginny had left and after that all Harry had wanted was to be left alone. Instead he had to deal with reporters camping out on the doorstep of his flat, the many worried glances Hermione would send his way when she saw him to say nothing of the constant whispers everywhere he went.

If that hadn't been enough, then there were the Weasleys themselves.

Molly refused to even look at him while Ron was at a loss of how to deal with the situation. He was obviously torn between protecting his little sister and defending his best mate. This crisis of conscience had resulted in a decision to support neither of them, which had made Harry feel even more alone. Not only had the woman he loved betrayed him, but his best mate had been unable to support him. At least George, Bill and Arthur had been more understanding. They often defended him against Molly when circumstances forced him to the Burrow, but Harry could tell all of them just wished the problem would just go away. It wasn't their fight and going away had suited Harry completely.

But being alone, trapped in Grimmauld Place away from the gossip, soon proved unbearable. There was no company for him there. All the old house gave him was a place where Harry could do nothing but brood. That was why he wanted to go back to work, back to what he was good at. At least there he wouldn't have to think about things. Ginny. The Quidditch playing git she had slept with. Ginny. His suspension. Ginny. To say he had a one track mind over the past few months was understatement. He closed his eyes, trying to block out the memory that forced itself to the surface of his mind.

Eliza nodded, "Indeed. I think there are few who would deny how much you've suffered." She looked at her notes while tapping a finger on the side of her chair. The room fell into a long, drawn out silence broken only by the sound of Eliza's tapping finger. Then she looked up with a piercing look, "Would you say that you find it difficult to trust, Harry?"

"No."

Even as the blunt denial left his lips, Harry realized just how utterly untrue it was. He _did_ find it difficult to trust. And why not? The Dursleys had treated him like the Malfoys had treated Dobby. His status among the students at Hogwarts had been at best fluid, shifting along with whatever the _Prophet_ was writing at the time. The same was true for practically everyone else in the wizarding world. Even his best friend had turned his back on him more than once. Only Hermione had truly stood by him, through thick and thin. One by one every other person who he had trusted had either left or failed him.

His eyes flicked to Eliza's and found her looking at him knowingly but with compassion. It was obvious she could see through his quick denial. The fact that these sessions could be used as more than a way for him to get his job back was slowly dawning on him.

Harry sighed and shook his head. "No you're right. Actually I do find it difficult to trust."

"Why is that, do you think?" Eliza asked gently. When he didn't answer she continued. "Harry, the point of these sessions is that you open up to me. Keeping your feelings trapped inside isn't going to help you. Everything in this room stays purely confidential."

His eyes darted to the quill that was still noting down everything that was said. "Prove it."

"Okay, if that's what you want." Eliza smiled reaching out and taking the quill away from the paper. As soon as the nib left the surface the quill froze, returning to its normal, lifeless state.

It was a simple interrogation tactic, one he had learnt at the start of his auror training and had used more than once. It worked on two levels. The first, quid pro quo. You give them something they feel obliged to give you something back. The second, and perhaps more insidious, was that by giving them something they thought you were on their side, sympathetic and understanding to whatever plight they were going through. Whether it was true or not it didn't matter, so long as they thought you did. People, Harry had learned, heard what they wanted to hear. Even if what they wanted to hear was a downright lie.

Had she done that earlier he would probably have seen it as a tactic, one used by a member of the system that he needed to use to get his job back. But the more they had talked, the more he had begun to realise Eliza wasn't just a part of the barrier he needed to overcome to get back to work. If there was one thing his job had helped him develop it was the ability to read people. She wasn't just going through the motions and it was clear that she didn't care whether he got his job back or not. Eliza had, if anything, deliberately avoided the topic of being an auror. She was doing her job, being a consummate professional and attempting to help him tackle whatever problems and emotions that had been stored up inside him. Maybe Eliza didn't have to just be a means to an end.

"Alright, what do you want to know?"

"What I want to know is why do _you_, Harry, think you have trust issues," Eliza asked.

Later, Harry would wonder how it happened. When he had sat down with Eliza, he had already been committed to saying the bare minimum to get by. In. Out. Get a doctor's note so Harry could finally get back to work. But then the words came bubbling out of him. Slow at first but then pouring out in a rush.

Harry found himself talking about all the chores his Aunt and Uncle had forced on him from a young age. The darkness of his cupboard as the Dursleys sat as a family and watched the telly. The terror of being chased by Dudley and his gang during the long days of Harry Hunting season. A fear that hadn't faded even when he had managed to get to the point of outsmarting them. He even told her how his name might as well have been "freak" considering how often he'd been called it by his supposed family.

Harry had long since dismissed the idea that his relatives had been abusive given they rarely hit him. Dudley had only really been the one to punch him and even that had stopped when Harry had figured out all the best ways to avoid his whale of a cousin. Yet as the recollections coursed out of him like blood from a gaping wound, Harry began to realise that abuse didn't always have to be physical. For all the scars on his body, Harry had avoided thinking about the mental ones he bore.

Harry found himself admitting to all the times as a child of dreaming how someone, anyone, would come and rescue him. How over the years this hope had all but died until Hagrid came to take him to Hogwarts. Although, it had become all too apparent the world he had escaped to wasn't the dream he had created. It may have provided him with only place he had ever called home and the friends he had spent so much of his childhood yearning for. But he had also encountered a darkness and pain far worse than much of what the Durselys had forced him to endure.

Perhaps the worst of it, worse than the attacks of Voldemort or any of his followers, was the crushing realization that his supposed saviour, Dumbledore, had merely squirreled him away till he had needed him to die. Harry even spoke of his time after he'd been hit with the Killing Curse which he'd never told anyone. How even as he accepted Dumbledore's apology, inside he seethed at how the Headmaster could dare to ask forgiveness for what Harry had been put through.

As he talked, Harry began to realize how much anger he had kept inside. Anger which Ginny's unfortunate lover had simply been a target. An escape for all the pent up fury caused by a life which had been far from fair.

All through this, Eliza merely sat and listened. She would only speak up when Harry was being vague or was obliviously leaving out an important detail. Never once did he feel she was judging him but sat and let his words wash over her like a long denied tide.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Eliza asked when he had finished.

"Because if I did they would have won," Harry answered, he was on his feet, staring out the window at the old tree in the garden outside her office. "I wasn't going to let them know they got to me."

Eliza was about to reply but a knock at the door interrupted whatever she was going to say. A man with light brown hair wearing expensive look robes stepped into the room. He had been standing at the desk when Harry had walked into the waiting room.

"I'm sorry to interrupt Miss Carnell. But the Madison's are here for their appointment and it's ten minutes past time already," the man said smiling shyly.

"Yes, of course, tell them I'll be right there, Sean. Thank you." Eliza said with a pretty smile. The man, although he didn't look much older than eighteen or nineteen, nodded blushing slightly as he shut the door behind him. "We seem to have run out of time, Harry. But, I'll see you soon, I've got a free slot on Thursday if you're available."

"I'm not doing anything else." Harry said, a hint of bitterness lacing the edge of his voice. He picked up his jacket from the seat, slipping into it as he walked towards the door. Unlike the Sean the secretory or Eliza, he wasn't wearing robes. Blending into muggle London wasn't too difficult, but robes always attracted attention and he didn't like being in Diagon Alley anymore. There were only so many insults and pointed stares he could take.

"Ten o'clock, I'll let Sean know to expect you."

"See you then," Harry said as he opened the door. But before he had stepped through he turned back to her. "How much did you know about all this? You never said."

"No I didn't," Eliza said with a slight smile. "In my profession you rapidly learn that little is as it first appears. Life is rarely so black and white so it pays not to give into preconceptions. I shall see you on Thursday then."

"Yeah, see you then," Harry said with a grin. As he stepped out of the office, Harry realised he was feeling better than he had felt in weeks.

His mood soon changed, however. Instead of heading straight home he had found himself wandering the streets of London, the memories that had resurfaced in his meeting preoccupying his mind. It felt as if his body was on autopilot, an all too familiar feeling from his time spent idly walking around Little Whinging when he had managed to occasionally escape the confines of the Dursley's. The cold wind and driving rain did little to improve his mood. Everything he had tried so hard over the last few years to bury at the back of his mind came flooding back to him. Even when he apparated home, landing perfectly on the doorstep of Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, he was forcibly reminded of the terror that had filled him when Yaxley had followed them there.

With a shake of his head to clear his thoughts, Harry opened the door only to have the harsh wind pull it out his hand and slam it shut behind him. Yet even before the echo faded, the sound of the storm cut off as if by a switch. The silence was almost deafening. Long gone were there ravings of Walpurga Black's portrait who would no doubt have been awoken by such a loud entrance. For all the changes he had made to the old house in terms of redecorating the place could still feel like a tomb. Bereft of any life but his own.

Of course, the missing portrait had little to do with the changes in the décor and was instead the result of a temper fuelled by too much Ogden's Firewhiskey. One drunken night of brooding over his ex-fiancée had ended with a shouting match between wizard and portrait. The frame might still be permanently stuck to the wall but the tattered scraps of fabric remained as a mute testament to whom had won the battle.

Making his way to the kitchen, Harry set about cooking his lunch a little later than anticipated. Kreacher had passed on a few years earlier and while Winky had wanted to bond with him, Harry convinced the earnest little elf that there were plenty of his former school mates who would be starting families soon and as a result would be a better fit. As much as he had come to care for Kreacher the idea of owning an elf made him uncomfortable. Harry didn't like the idea of being anyone's master if he could help it.

Without the elf to help him, Harry had made do. He had installed a non-electric gas stove since he felt far more at ease cooking the muggle way. As much as he had detested cooking for his relatives and living on the bread crumbs, he found the actual process to be rather soothing.

It struck him as he pulled a few items from the cool box just how extensive his changes to the kitchen had been. Gone was all the old crockery and battered furniture. Now there was a long, stylish table with comfortable chairs surrounding it. More nights than he cared to remember he and the others had enjoyed food that Kreacher had so lovingly prepared. Those nights had been filled with Ron and Ginny talking about Quidditch while Hermione rolled her eyes and kept them up to date with changes at the Ministry.

Now it was just him.

His quiet solitude was soon shattered as the kitchen fireplace flared green and a familiar voice called out, "Harry? Are you there?"

"Yes, come on through," Harry said without turning from the food he was preparing.

The chrome of the stove reflected the sight of Hermione ungracefully exiting the floo. Harry did his best to hide his smile. Like him, Hermione never seemed to be able to pick up the knack for graceful floo travel. The bushy-haired teenager he once knew maybe gone, but there would always be some things that stayed the same.

"I'm glad I caught you here. I was going to come by leave a note if you weren't but you know how much I hate showing up when you're not here," Hermione said as she took a chair.

Harry chuckled while he sliced up some tomatoes, "You know both you and Andromeda are welcome to come over anytime. I didn't key you into the wards for nothing."

Hermione snorted, "Yes I know but it still creeps me out how so many wizards are okay with just allowing people to floo into their homes even when they're not there. Yes, I know you've basically given me the equivalent to a key but still…this _is_ your house."

"Are you still hungry?" Harry asked gesturing to the food he was preparing, "I've only just started, I can make more if you want?"

"No, thank you, I'm good. I wouldn't say no to some tea though," Hermione replied as she began to dust off some of the dirt that had come off on her crisp Ministry robes, one of what Harry viewed as the many problems with fireplace travel. "Where were you earlier? I flooed but you weren't in. I thought maybe you'd gone to see Andromeda but she said she wasn't expecting you until later."

Harry nodded. Every evening at seven o'clock he went to Andromeda's. No excuses. No delays. At seven o'clock, no matter what he was doing, he went up to see his godson. Yes, he could probably afford to be a little late. But if he was five minutes late once, there was no telling how late his next visit would be. Then the next. Then the next, until he didn't see Teddy at all. He knew what that was like. Even when Ginny had left him he had made a point of visiting. It was the least he could do. He owed that to Teddy.

After the War, Harry had initially felt guilty about all the deaths. Deaths he somehow felt he could have prevented. He had convinced himself that maybe if he had fought harder or prevented Voldemort sooner, they might still be alive. Yet, while at Hogwarts for his last year, Harry heard so many heroic stories of what had been going one while he, Ron and Hermione had been looking for the horcruxes. Quite a few of his year-mates repeated the year given how the previous year was long on terror and short on learning. The tales they told had changed how he saw his place in the scheme of things.

Harry quickly realised how everyone had been doing their part while he was looking for horcruxes. The truth was that everyone who had died had done so fighting for a cause they believed in. Neville for one had stepped up and in his own way had been just as much a "Chosen One" as Harry. Even Luna had done much with Ginny before being caught and sent off to the Malfoys. Everyone had a story. They all knew the risks but kept fighting anyway. They had risked their lives rather than submit to Voldemort. Unlike so many others in Britain, they hadn't waited in hopes that Harry would come to save them.

Even Tonks and Remus had come back to fight, risking not only their lives but the future of their son. If anyone had a reason to avoid the firefight, to leave things to others, it was them. But instead they had risked it all to stand up to Voldemort. On some of his darker days Harry had been unable to see their sacrifice as right; their son had lost his family, a pain Harry knew all too well. But instead of trying to protect their son like his parents had, they had run off into battle and left their son alone.

No, not alone. Teddy might not have his parents but every fibre of Harry's being was committed to showing the little metamorphmagus he still had a family. Harry was going to be the godfather Teddy deserved and the one the Ministry had robbed Harry of for all those years. He wasn't ever going to let Teddy down. He had promised himself that.

"I was at my therapy session," Harry answered as he poured water into the kettle. "You ever heard of Eliza Carnell?"

"The healer?"

"Yeah, that's the one. Well, I had my first session today."

"How'd it go? I've heard she's done some excellent work. She was nominated for the Jefferson prize last year. The youngest ever to be nominated. It's a shame she didn't win it though, Healer Thomas Flint got it. It's generally given to older healers for their contribution to medicine but she's had a far more important impact than he ever did. No-one before has managed to successfully promote and apply muggle methods and treatments at St. Mungo's. I'd love to meet her, I was supposed to last year but we were so busy I didn't have chance. Penelope Clearwater went instead."

"Breathe, Hermione. It's okay. You won't lose any House points," Harry chided teasingly. That Hermione hadn't lost the ability to spew out lots of info all at once was another enduring thing which hadn't changed.

Hermione made a face, "Prat!"

"So kind," Harry said dryly, "and to answer your actual question at the start of that, it went fine," He grinned at her playful scowl as he fetched a mug from the cupboard for Hermione's tea. The kettle had long since boiled but his cooking had taken precedence, primarily because it would burn if it did not.

"I've got another session booked for Thursday and since when were you that interested in healers? You were pretty adamant that after so much time in bed due to the Basilisk and that curse from Dolohov that you'd rather take Divinations rather than go back to the infirmary."

"It's my job to be interested," Hermione replied in a slightly affronted tone as she accepted her tea from him.

Unlike Harry and Ron – before Ron dropped out and took his brother's place in Weasley's Wizard Wheezes - Hermione had never once given a thought to become an auror. She wanted to ensure the new Ministry of Magic wouldn't fall back into the old, pureblood ways. The Department of Magical Transportation had been her entrance into the Ministry, due to her natural aptitude and skill in arithmancy and runes. A talent like hers, as Harry had always suspected, hadn't gone unnoticed. It hadn't been long before she switched departments to something that more suited her interests.

Although Hermione would grudgingly admit how S.P.E.W. wasn't her best work, her heart had always been in fighting for rights. This had led her to the Department of International Cooperation where she had breathed new life into the old moribund organization. To say that the rest of the magical world had shunned Britain was an understatement. After all, there was a reason that nobody came to the aid of Britain during Voldemort's rise to power. However, with Hermione leading the way due to her promotion to Head of Department, the British were being taken far more seriously abroad. Although, there were still those who had their doubts.

Harry was glad of his friend's success. Occasionally he had done his best to help her out or dealt with international auror issues but he didn't have the patience Hermione had to deal with a lot of the bureaucratic maneuvering. The only reason his efforts bore any fruit was the fact that he had the right name.

Hermione took sip from her tea, "How long do you think you'll be seeing her for? I know you're there so you can get your job back but I think you'd do well to continue a bit further than that."

Harry frowned at this. As much as it was in Hermione's nature to nag, it didn't mean he had to like it, even if she was only trying to help.

Hermione saw the look on his face and hastily spoke up, "I didn't mean it that way Harry. Merlin knows all of us probably should be in therapy after all we've been through. I mean Ron still has nightmares from that time you two went to see Aragog."

Harry nodded. Left unsaid was how often he himself had woken Hermione out of a Bellatrix torture nightmare. For some reason they often hit when she was merely dozing on the couch. He sometimes wondered if it was Grimmauld Place that did it since Ron had mentioned she did pretty well back at her own flat. Given how much he had confessed to Eliza, Hermione probably was right as usual.

He wasn't about to tell her that though. He'd enough of her "_Honestly Harry; I told you so!_" back at Hogwarts to last him for another decade or so.

"I don't know," Harry shrugged. The truth was he didn't. Sure, he'd opened up to her but she had also said that he was using work as a distraction, a crutch. Would she want him to go back soon? Somehow he doubted it. That was the trouble with these things, they took time. No one, Harry had noticed, ever quantified just how much time it took. "As long as she wants me to I guess."

"She knows what she's doing," Hermione pointed out. "There isn't anyone else at St. Mungo's better qualified."

_Shame for her office is the other side of London,_ Harry mused to himself. Eliza was the best in her field, so where did the hospital place her? As far from the actual hospital as they could. He managed to stop himself saying any of this to Hermione. Knowing her it would only spark a ten minute and incredibly one sided argument about equality and acceptance, an argument that Harry always thought was slightly flawed as she failed to accept people's bigoted prejudices herself and tried to force her views on them. She really could be a control freak sometimes.

"True," Harry agreed. "But no offense, Hermione, I've spent all morning there. I don't really want to spend my afternoon talking about it as well. How about we talk why you're here in the middle of the day and not at work?"

She flushed. The mug stopped halfway to her lips as she looked at him. He could almost see her brain trying to come up with the excuse as he dished up his meal. "It's lunchtime?" she tried.

"You take your lunch to work every day and eat your lunch at twelve like clockwork. It's half-past one," Harry said with a slight smirk.

Hermione open her mouth to reply but Harry held up his hand, "I'm an auror remember, Hermione? I'm trained to see through excuses. What's this really about?"

She sighed as she put her mug down. "Fine. I need to ask a favour."

"Why do I get the feeling I'm not going to like this?" Harry asked dryly as he started on his food. Hermione rarely ever asked for anything and when she did there was always a good reason. Not that he would turn her down. He stuck by his friends, even if that meant doing something he didn't like.

"You don't even know what it is!" Hermione chastised him missing the sarcasm in his voice.

Harry just grinned. Even after all these years he could still push her buttons when he wanted to. It was her own fault really. She shouldn't be so easy to rile.

"Okay. Yes, you probably won't like it, but I can't take anyone else."

"Take? Take me where?" Harry asked but as he spoke he realised just where she wanted him to go. "No. Hermione. No way. You know I hate those things."

"Please? It's George and Angelica's anniversary so Ron can't take me," Hermione said.

"Why can't you go on your own? I would."

"I can't, you know how old-fashioned some magical customs are. A witch in my position can't just go alone, especially when they are going to be so many high level ICW diplomats there."

"That and you hate everyone there just as much as I do."

Every year, the Ministry would hold a ball that wasn't so much about dancing and enjoying the fine food and wine but more about rubbing shoulders with those who thought they were superior. People that made Harry's fists itch and made Draco Malfoy look humble. Hermione hated going because she knew that probably more than half of the room believed in 'their humble opinion' that she didn't deserve the job she had because she wasn't 'the right sort'. If Ron wasn't in the room there was no-one she could latch onto when the smug, self-righteous nature of almost everyone in the room got too much. Ron, Harry knew, just stood somewhere near the buffet table and ate as much free food as he could, even if it wasn't socially acceptable.

"More, you've only been to one!"

"One too many," Harry muttered darkly. He remembered all too well the half an hour tirade he had been forced to endure from Lord Montague about the shocking rise of Muggleborns in the Ministry.

He sighed as the memory also revealed who had saved him from the pompous lord. Hermione, a false smile plastered on her face, had whisked him away claiming her head of department at the time wanted to speak to him. Deep down he knew she wasn't asking him to anything she wouldn't do if the situation was reversed. More in fact. After all, she had done. There weren't many people who would refuse to break under the torture curse of Bellatrix LeStrange.

He sighed. Hermione was his best friend. He knew he had no choice but to agree to what was really a fair request. But that didn't mean he had to like it.

"Alright. Fine. I'll do it. But I'm not wearing dress robes." Harry told her with a voice that made it clear there was no room for compromise.

"Any reason?" Hermione asked curiously as she tried to hide the grin that was spreading across her face.

"I threw my only set away." Harry answered. Ginny had given them to him, which automatically meant he would be damned if he was going to wear them ever again. The only other robes he owned were the ones he wore to work, definitely not suitable for the event. They were far too practical, partly armoured and enchanted to defend against curses. Not the sort of thing you went dancing in. Not that he was using them for work either, he mentally added.

"I'm sure you'll find something," Hermione said quickly, not dwelling on just why Harry didn't have anything suitable. "It's at eight, tonight. That won't be a problem will it?"

"No," Harry said dryly, "I'm sure I can you into my busy schedule with a little work."

Hermione smiled at the joke even though it really hadn't been that good of one. Then again Harry had to admit he hadn't been in a joking mood for a long time so Hermione was probably just happy to see his humour was returning.

Harry was surprised when Hermione started to talk to him about the trade talks she had been involved in over the past few weeks. He had just expected her to leave as soon as she got what she wanted from him. Lately it was all most people tended to do, come in and get what they needed and leave all too quickly. Their desperation to leave had no doubt been spurred on by his foul mood.

As he listened to her talk about how the Dutch's new minister had completely upset the trade talks set up by his predecessor meaning that they had had to start from scratch, Harry realised just how many of his friends he had let fall by the wayside. Whether it was Neville, who he had lost touch with since he had started teaching at Hogwarts, or Luna who he rarely saw as she was constantly taking trips to looking for exotic animals, he rarely saw any of his old friends anymore.

Maybe Hermione was right, maybe he really did need his sessions to Eliza more than he thought.

It didn't take him long to notice that as Hermione spoke and sipped at her tea, that she was making an effort to avoid talking about the Weasleys. There was far too much pain there for him to go down that path and he was happy to follow her lead. Instead, the two reminisced about Hogwarts. It felt strange talking to Hermione again as if nothing had happened. It made him realise just how much he had cut himself off from the rest of the world.

It jolted him to realise just how small his circle of friends really was. He had just excused it as a result of people growing apart due to them having their own lives, moving away and getting preoccupied with work. But he certainly hadn't made much of an effort to keep in touch. Now he just interacted with his fellow aurors, many of whom he hadn't seen since he had been suspended, and Andromeda and Teddy.

Other aurors were the only people who could fully understand what he had seen. They were the only people who truly knew his world. Everyone else was just looking in.

Harry quickly banished such thoughts and just basked in the conversation with Hermione. Maybe Hermione had needed this uncharacteristic and unscheduled half-day more than she realised.

"Well," Hermione said glancing at her watch, "I'd better get going, it's getting late and I've still got to get ready."

"It's going to take you three hours to get ready?" Harry asked. He never had been able to understand what took so long. "It takes me half an hour at most."

"I've still got some work to catch up on as well," Hermione told him.

"Surely you can just have one afternoon off and do nothing?" Harry asked incredulously. Even as auror he hadn't had to work as hard as Hermione did. She seemed to constantly be working, doing reports, sending letters to her counterparts in other ministries across the world and Merlin knew what else. "Would it kill you?"

"You know I have to work harder than everyone else," Hermione said the frustration clear in her voice. He knew exactly what she meant, muggleborns weren't given the same opportunities as everyone else. She had to work twice as hard just to be treated almost equally. "I'm not saying this hasn't been nice, it has and I'm sorry I haven't been able to see you as much lately. It's just-"

"Work, I know. It's okay, Hermione, really. I get it."

She gave him a sad smile as she got to her feet. "Thanks, Harry. It should all settle down a bit soon. It hasn't been easy trying to deal with the Dutch since Alice had to go on maternity leave."

"You ever thought about all that?" Harry asked, "Starting a family with kids and everything?"

"Eventually maybe," Hermione admitted, "I don't know. I haven't really thought about it. I've just been so focused on work and actually making a difference. We've never talked about it, I'm not sure I'm for that just yet. Besides, this job is hard enough without having to look after someone else as well."

"You'd want to do it properly if you did do it," Harry nodded. He knew just what she meant. Being an auror he had to sacrifice more than just a few meals and birthday parties. It had been hard enough seeing Teddy for a few hours every evening. There was no way he could have managed juggling work and being a father. It wasn't as if Ginny had ever complained, even when she had been with Teddy she hadn't been what he would call the maternal type.

"Anyway, like I say I'd better go. I'll see you later then, Harry."

"Yeah, see you."

She smiled and gave him a quick hug before she turned and headed towards the fireplace. There was a flash of green flame and then she was gone, leaving Harry with an empty mug and a smile on his face.


	2. Family

Chapter Two: Family

At around ten to seven Harry stepped outside Grimmauld Place, dressed in a black suit with a crisp white shirt. The tie he wore was thin and dark red with a diagonal splash of white cutting across it. His shoes were polished to a gleam, even his cufflinks glinted in the light shining down from the street lights. No-one could say he hadn't made an effort. But there was no way in hell he was going to wear damn dress robes.

He had only run a hand through his unruly hair and left it at that. Despite popular belief Harry knew full well that his hair could be tamed. The supposedly infamous Potter hair was pretty much a sham. He just liked the look and not having to do much with it. The fact that it reminded people of James made him want to keep it rather than tame it. The truth was Harry had never tried to fix it and only Hermione had ever attempted to do so without asking. Luckily this had happened while they had been alone during the Horcrux hunt. It was a little joke they shared now, a glimmer of light in the memories filled with darkness.

Anyone nearby would have heard a faint pop as Harry vanished. One second he was standing in London and the next his eyes were greeted by the house of Andromeda Tonks. He stood there for a moment, checking his watch, making sure that he had arrived with plenty of time. The rain hadn't come this far north, and instead sunlight was trying feebly to poke through the thick grey clouds which blanketed the sky. He looked up at the sound of his name and noticed the door of the house before him had opened and Andromeda Tonks was waiting for him.

"You look nice," she said when he had given her a quick hug and they had stepped inside. "Going somewhere special?"

"Depends on your definition of special," Harry asked back. "I'm off to the Ministry Ball since Hermione needed a suitable companion in front of all the big-wigs and Ron's busy covering the shop with George and Angelina off on their anniversary."

"And you don't want to go, of course," Andromeda said with a tight smirk which turned to a look of exasperation. "Him and that shop. I've already told the three of them they need to hire more help."

Harry nodded, "I know but we both know how stubborn Weasleys are. To them it seems an unnecessary expense and given how they were raised… well you know."

Andromeda sighed as she led Harry to the living room, "I do indeed. Of course, if they actually have the grandchild Molly wants them to have they'll need the help anyway. Although, Angelina got that offer from the Harpies so I don't that happening somehow." It was well known that Molly Weasley was desperate for her children to start families of their own. The idea of being a grandmother was something that the Weasley matriarch was more than a little excited for.

Harry sat down in his favourite plush chair. The fireplace to his right was burning nicely, a nice change from the cold wind outside. Even with his redecorating, the dark red wallpaper Andromeda had chosen made this room feel far warmer than any in Grimmauld Place.

Then again Andromeda's home had started as a muggle vacation cottage built in the Victorian times. The previous owners, however, had gutted the inside and upgraded with all the modern conveniences. Like the previous owners, Andromeda had totally redone the place when she had moved in after the war. Harry had sold her old place for her as she could barely step foot in the place after hearing the death of her daughter. Clearing out the home was Winky's last act for Harry before she bonded to a new family.

Harry understood how she felt. Too many memories could suck the enjoyment out of life just as assuredly as a Dementor could. It was why he had thrown practically everything away when he was redecorating Grimmauld Place. Too many memories. Too much pain. It was something that had made his final year at Hogwarts equally painful. Being in the castle was a constant reminder of who he hadn't been there with. Harry sometimes wondered if that was why both Ron and George were so driven. They both wanted to forget the past.

Harry looked over to the mantel above the fireplace. The only thing on it was a picture of himself and Andromeda with baby Teddy. Ginny had taken it when they'd all gone to the coast for a weekend. It had been Teddy's first trip to the beach. The picture showed Teddy happily holding hands between Harry and his grandmother. As Harry looked at the picture he could see how the young boy's hair shifted and changing colour. He had been so happy that day.

"George really needed someone after everything. I think Ron needed to be needed. They've been good for each other," Harry said thoughtfully. Of course left unsaid was that Ron needed to be needed for something outside of Harry's shadow. He had needed to grow up. They all had.

There was a brief silence, filled only with the noise of the crackling fireplace and gentle ticking of the clock resting on the mantelpiece. Harry stared it for a moment, but he wasn't really looking at it. Distant memories as fresh as the day he was there flooded back to him. The sounds of shouting, the falling rubble and the terrible agony filled screams echoed in his ears. He let the memories wash over for him a moment, consume him, before locking them back away. Burying them again.

"Still, they're doing good business." He said forcing a sense of brightness into his voice. "Must be if they're still open."

"Rumour is they're saving up to buy Zonko's."

"That's just a rumour, though if they could afford it I wouldn't put it past them," Harry smirked. "George hasn't stopped in years."

"They're opening another one down in Hogsmeade," Andromeda said. "Ron's going to be running it, he was telling me last week. It's about time too. Deserves to after all the work he's put in for that shop. Guess George is going to have to get help when Ron leaves."

That was true, Ron really had put in the work at the shop. Nobody had really expected him to step up like he had; instead they had suspected he would fall back into old habits. But the shop life had suited Ron, far more than dodging spells and any other rigorous test the Auror Department could come up with. Granted, that was the point, to weed out the people who couldn't manage it. The trouble was there were less experienced aurors these days, as so many had died in the war and recruits weren't exactly lining up to join. Nobody wanted to be part of a department that had been decimated a few years earlier. Any auror who had stood up to Voldemort's regime hadn't been looking out for his job security. Some had gone into hiding but too many had died. Too many good men.

"Zonko's could do with the competition up there." Harry said smirking, the old joke shop had always reigned supreme up in Hogsmeade. Change always had a way of ruining old traditions. "That's probably where all the rumours about a buy-out are coming from."

"They're going to have to work hard," Andromeda commented, "There was one shop tried when I was at Hogwarts. It didn't last long."

Harry was about to continue, saying that Ron would easily manage to fight off Zonko's, but before he could there was an excited yell and something small and grinning barrelled into Harry. He laughed, picking Teddy up and spinning him round, eliciting giggling from the boy. The world went soft. Only Teddy could do that to him. Everything seemed to be right when Teddy was there, like his whole life, everything he had suffered and fought for and lost, all of it seemed worth it when he looked at Teddy. One of the few lights that shone in the dark.

"More!" Teddy shouted as Harry gently lowered his godson to the floor.

"Sorry, kiddo, you know your gran has set a two twirl limit," Harry said with a grin as he ruffled his Teddy's hair. As usual Teddy had unconsciously turned his hair the same jet black as Harry's own. His eyes, however, were still mostly brown with just a hint of green in them. Teddy was still a long way off from being in proper control of his metamorphmagic abilities.

"So, how are you feeling? You don't seem too bad off," Harry asked. Teddy had been down with the flu over the last few days.

"Better," Teddy replied as he clambered up onto Harry's favourite chair and perched there with his feet dangling off the arm.

Harry smiled at this and the fact Teddy had obviously gotten his energy back. His teachers, if they could see him, would be justified in wondering why he wasn't back in school. Andromeda, however, was more than a little overprotective when it came to her grandchild.

"Grammie made me pancakes!" Teddy told him excitedly, bouncing a little on the arm of Harry's chair.

"Did she?" The boy nodded profusely, his eyes big and innocent. A small part of Harry envied Teddy, wishing his childhood had been like his, full of love and care. It was only a very small part. But it was still there all the same buried deep inside. He ignored it, focusing instead on the beaming boy before him.

"He was ill," Andromeda said quickly, as if trying to justify treating her grandson. Both Harry and Andromeda knew full well the older witch was soft on Teddy. Not that Harry blamed her. He was the only family they both had left. "What else could I do?"

"Can we play trains, Uncle Harry?" Teddy asked excitedly before Harry could say anything else to Andromeda. Teddy had a habit of trying to get as much time out of Harry as he could whenever he visited. Not that Harry minded. There was nothing he wouldn't do for his godson.

"What do we say?" Harry asked.

"Please?"

"Right, why don't you go get your trains and I'll help you set up in here."

Teddy was beaming as he scrambled down from the chair and hurried out of the room. He loved his train set, ever since George had made it for him the previous Christmas Teddy had never stopped playing with it. The trains were enchanted and followed whatever track Teddy set out for them. George had gone the extra mile to make them as realistic as he could: steam, whistles; the works.

"Don't play with him for too long," Andromeda said gently when Teddy could be heard running up the stairs to his room, "He's got to be up early for school."

Harry performed a mock salute which earned him a stern glare from the elder woman. No matter how different she was from the rest of them, Harry reminded himself, she was still a Black.

The evening passed quickly and all too soon Harry knew he would have to leave. He couldn't put it off for any longer, but he still dragged out putting Teddy to bed, as he always did. He even indulged in reading a section of the science fiction novel Hermione had bought for him. He even did the silly voices. He had to. They made a story. Especially for Teddy, he liked hearing General di Santo, leader of the Rebel army, sounding like he had a helium addiction. But when he was officially fifteen minutes late he knew he would have to leave.

"Can't you stay?" Teddy asked when Harry was putting the book back on the shelf. "Grammie wouldn't mind."

"I know, kiddo, but I've got to go." Harry said a sad smile on his face as he looked at his godson. "Your Aunt Hermione needs me." That seemed enough for Teddy who nodded happily at the thought of his godfather rushing off to save the day.

"But I'll be back tomorrow, don't worry." Teddy smiled and it only took a few steps and then Harry was hugging his godson. Harry stayed there for as long as he could before releasing Teddy. He stepped back, before giving a small wave.

"Goodnight," Harry said, forcing the sadness out of his voice. He hated leaving Teddy. Every time he wished he could stay longer, spend more time with his godson. But there was always something that had to drag him away. If it wasn't the ball then it used to be trying to make some time for Ginny or going back on shift to catch the latest dark wizard. The world didn't stop just because Harry wanted it to.

"Night," Teddy waved yawning slightly as he did so. Before he shut the door Harry waved his wand, silently plunging the room into darkness as Teddy pulled the covers over himself.

Andromeda offered him a gentle smile when he reached the bottom of the stairs. "Do try to have fun won't you, Harry?"

She dusted something off the lapel of his jacket before giving it to him. He idly wondered whether there had been anything there at all or whether Andromeda just liked making a fuss. She didn't have many people to fuss after. Not anymore. Ginny had sometimes had to suffer the mothering of Andromeda. At least, until she had told the press her damn story that was. For weeks after she had still visited, for Teddy's sake. But not anymore. Harry didn't know why but he was sure it had something to do with him. Teddy too. Ginny had always been jealous of the time he set aside for Teddy. But if she didn't know why he did it, she didn't know him at all because there was no way in hell he would give up on Teddy.

"Oh I'll have a ball." Harry grimaced. It wasn't funny and the pun was awful but it got a laugh, albeit a token one.

"Very funny," Andromeda said dryly rolling her eyes. "Say hello to Hermione for me."

He nodded before giving her a quick hug and heading out the door. She didn't head back inside until he was out of the gate and by then he had already turned and vanished.

oOo

"You're late," was the greeting Harry got when he knocked on the front door of Hermione's flat. It was accompanied by a worried scowl, one which was all too familiar to Harry. It was the same one she used to get before exams, no matter how much revision she did. Confidence wasn't her strong suit, especially when her plans for an occasion did not happen exactly as she had envisioned, a fact which Harry had momentarily forgotten when he had been with Teddy. Had Harry remembered he doubted he would have been as late as he was.

"Good evening to you too," Harry responded calmly before stepping into the apartment and shutting the door behind him.

The flat was as clean and neat as it always was, not sterile like Privet Drive had been, but tidy. Everything had its proper place, it was Hermione's flat after all. She was one of the most organised people he knew. However, when Ron was round it was a completely different story and one that sometimes got too much for Hermione after a long day at work.

Harry followed Hermione into the living room, it was easily the largest room in the house. The entire far wall was taken up by a dark wooden bookcase, which was filled to bursting with books on a variety of topics. On top of that there was a fiction section, which Harry borrowed from on the odd occasion for a book he could read to Teddy. Hermione had kept many of her own children's books, not having the heart to throw them away. It had surprised Harry to see so many cracked spines when he had first seen the collection in its entirety. Although, Hermione had to afford a flat on her own wage, so she couldn't afford to be too choosey.

He sat down on the leather sofa as she magically filed away the many rolls of parchment that took up most of the coffee table. No doubt she had been going over the plans with the Dutch before the ball.

"Been busy," Harry remarked - it wasn't a question. He was well aware of Hermione's last minute panics before anything important. It was something that barely anyone else ever saw. Instead, they probably thought she was self-assured and confident. She was a war hero, a gifted witch and a muggleborn succeeding in an organisation that was constantly making sure the odds were stacked against her. All of those things pointed to the reputation many bought into and which Harry knew to be far from the truth.

"Like you wouldn't believe," Hermione told him when the last roll of parchment had flown into an open drawer to Harry's left. "Thanks for doing this, Harry, really. I know it's not your scene."

"It's fine, Hermione, what are friends for?" Left unsaid was the amount of help she had given him over the years. Suffering through a pointless Ministry ball was the least he could do. Even if he was going to hate it. "You all set?"

"Almost," Hermione said picking up the small purse from the coffee table before stashing her wand inside. An undetectable extension charm, Harry noted. Ever since the horcrux hunt Hermione had constantly been using the charm so as to make sure she was prepared for every eventuality. Merlin only knew what else she had hidden in there. Harry doubted the rolls of parchment she had just put away were the only pieces of work she had liberated from work.

"And you have a go at me for being late," Harry commented earning himself a mock glare from his friend who had crossed to the mirror above the fireplace. Every wizard and witch's home had one, even if they weren't linked up to a chimney.

"How do I look?" Hermione asked frowning at her reflection as if displeased with the face she saw staring back at her. If Harry had known nothing of her background he would have been unable to understand why she was as self-critical as she was. But Hermione had not had the most supportive of peers before Hogwarts. Bullying left scars that never quite went away. He knew there were always doubts at the back of her mind and nobody have ever managed to convince her that she was pretty, despite the obvious evidence.

"You look great," Harry told her looking straight into her eyes as he did so in an attempt to convince her it was true. Hermione's dress robes, a deep blue, were finely tailored and suited her far more than the revealing alternatives Harry had seen in the window of Madam Malkin's a few months previously. Her make-up was light and sparing and her hair fell in lavish curls down to her shoulders. They might well be best friends, but Harry wasn't blind, a fact which didn't stop Hermione refusing to agree with either him or Ron whenever they complimented her looks.

Hermione gave him a sad sort of smile but shook herself and turned from the mirror. He knew a hint when he saw one so didn't say anything else, as he knew it was unfair to judge when it came to refusing to talk about things, considering what he had spent the last three months doing.

"How are we getting there?" Harry asked changing the topic from Hermione.

"The visitors entrance, I don't think everyone would appreciate us falling out of a fireplace, do you?"

Harry didn't comment. He knew all too well that more than a few people at the ball would appreciate seeing either or both of them embarrassed. He was the Boy-Who-Lived and Hermione was a muggleborn who didn't know her place according to too many supposedly 'upstanding' members of the community. It was definitely better if they went via the visitor's entrance. His name might already be mud but he wasn't going to give them anything to use against Hermione. No matter how trivial.

"Okay, I'm ready," Hermione told him dragging his attention back to the matter at hand.

Together they headed out of the apartment, Hermione plunging the flat into darkness with a wave of her wand before she shut the door. It took a moment for her to cast necessary charms on her front door. It was a realistic precaution. There were still fanatics out there sympathetic to Voldemort's cause who held a grudge. The aurors, no matter how hard they tried, were never going to catch all of them. Some always slipped through the net. Add on top of that Hermione's steadily increasing influence in the Ministry and nosey journalists then it was no wonder she felt the need to protect her apartment magically when she was gone.

"Miss Granger," Harry said offering his arm to her a small smile on his face. "If you would do me the honour?"

"Always the comedian," Hermione grinned slipping her arm into his. She looked nervous. But her smile remained as she looked into the face of her friend. "Thank you for this."

"Any time," Harry answered solemnly. "I just hope you get what you need tonight."

"We should be okay," Hermione told him, "Trimbole just needs the personal touch. At least Ambassador Delacour is onside, even if it isn't official yet."

"Handy having Fleur living here really," Harry commented, glad that Hermione noticed the sarcasm in his voice. They were both well aware of the professionalism of the French ambassador, Hermione more than anyone. So much of her time during these trade talks had been spent making sure that everyone could see they were above board.

"We'd better get going," Hermione said albeit a little reluctantly. "We're already running a little late."

Harry nodded and with that they vanished, leaving Hermione's empty flat behind them.


	3. Keeping Up Appearances

Chapter Three: Keeping Up Appearances

Daphne Greengrass, pureblood by birth and heiress to the Ancient and Noble House of Greengrass stood in front of the full length mirror critiquing her reflection. Her dress, a dark green to match her eyes, was elegant and weightless. It hugged to her figure where needed and showed off just enough of her natural assets to be appealing but not too suggestive. Old men plied with Ogden's finest tended to get too overconfident and forgetful about things like marriage and their wives.

Daphne's blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders, falling in curls that had been painstakingly crafted hours before. Usually her hair was far straighter but the ball demanded she do something different. It was the way things were. Everyone presented the 'best' version of themselves, whether they wanted to or not. There was nothing Daphne could do now, she knew that, but she continued to check her reflection anyway. Best to make sure before the big event. She knew that she wasn't beautiful, not in the way that would make men stare and jaws drop. But Daphne liked to think she was pretty thanks to her fair skin, small nose and large green eyes. She was not Pansy Parkinson after all. Nothing could help that one, even Merlin would have his work cut out.

There was a knock at the door and her sister walked in. Astoria looked nothing like Daphne. Astoria's hair was a dark brown, while Daphne's was a light shade of blonde. Daphne was also shorter than her sister, who was tall and far thinner than Daphne could ever hope to be. Even their eyes were different, Astoria having inherited their mother's pale blue eyes while Daphne shared her father's. But Daphne liked that. Astoria was forever being compared to their mother, being almost a carbon copy.

"Daph, you ready?" Astoria asked, grinning happily. "Draco will be here soon."

_Ah yes, the lovely Draco_. Reformed ever since dear Daddy had gone to jail and Narcissa had only been kept out due to the intervention of the Boy-Who-Lived. That still made Daphne feel warm inside. Draco hated Potter. The fact his mother still walked free was a constant reminder that he owed Harry Potter. He deserved it too. Constantly being reminded the man he hated had power over him. It made him feel weak, pathetic, all the things he was deep down. Astoria hadn't had to share a common room for seven years with him. Merlin that boy liked the sound of his own voice.

"Can't be late for dear, darling Draco, can we?" Daphne said turning to her sister only to be met with a slight glare. It was the only bone between the two sisters. One hated Draco, the other adored him but Astoria had been in Ravenclaw. She hadn't seen what he was like, what lay beneath the now more calm, polite and restrained exterior. The Malfoy name wasn't what it had once been and he couldn't order people about anymore.

"At least I have a date," Astoria snapped, glowering before stalking out of the room. That much was true. Daphne had turned away any other suitor mainly because they wanted the gold she would inherit far more than they were interested in her. Draco had tried years before he had moved onto Astoria. It hadn't ended well for him. Besides, she didn't need a date for a ball. It was far more interesting to be uncommitted than have to stay with one boring and arrogant Pureblood lord in waiting for the evening.

Daphne took her time getting ready, knowing that it would annoy the newest head of the House of Malfoy. She could have left when her sister had done, but where was the fun in that? As she expected when she finally headed downstairs Draco was glaring at her. Although, he spent most of his time glaring at her. It was one of his favourite hobbies and took minimal effort, which was probably why he enjoyed it so much. She suspected he was hoping to feel important or intimidating or something. Whatever he was going for never worked. Daphne, instead of being scared or embarrassed, found it highly amusing. It was always fun to annoy Draco.

Draco was wearing black dress robes, complete with a white shirt and black tie. Exquisitely made the robes fitted him perfectly and clearly showed that no matter what everyone else believed the Malfoy's were not completely broke. Daphne restrained a sigh. Every high ranking Ministry official and Pureblood Lord would be going through the exact same pretence. It was expected. The clothes you wore reflected just how rich and therefore important you were. A man in cheap robes would be avoided at all costs. Daphne was wearing a set of elegant dress robes, true enough, but she had worn them on several occasions before not seeing the point of wasting expensive clothes. Draco would never wear his again.

"Hope I haven't kept you waiting," Daphne said not bothering to look apologetic. She had to hide the grin that wanted to pull at her lips as Draco's fingers twitched. That temper really would get him into trouble one day. For his sake she hoped not with her. There were lines he never wanted to cross. Daphne was more than a little protective of Astoria.

"Not at all," Draco replied stiffly. "Shall we?"

He didn't wait for a reply instead turning away from Daphne, Astoria on his arm, into the sitting room. The glare Daphne got from her sister seemed almost genuine. But she would calm down soon enough, Astoria was definitely the forgiving one among them. Although, Daphne mused as she followed her sister, it could be because she had more to being forgiving about. Part of Daphne really did want to like Draco, but she couldn't help it. He was ugly to the bone. Selfish, arrogant, rude and nowhere near as clever as he thought he was. Daphne had tried once to actually talk to him, for Astoria's sake, but after half an hour had seriously considered a killing curse and a one-way trip to Azkaban.

She followed them out of the hall and stepped into the other room just as Draco was throwing floo powder onto the roaring fire. There was a flash of emerald green and without a word he walked into the flames. Astoria waited for him to say his destination and for the fire to consume him before speaking.

"You could try to be nicer to him." Astoria said, heading for the jar in which they kept the powder. "Would it you kill you?"

"No," Daphne replied, taking the jar from her sister. "But I might kill him."

"He wants to make the effort, you know that?"

"No, he just says he does." Draco Malfoy would say anything to get what he wanted. His type would. But it was strange how he would almost never deliver on his words. "There's a difference."

Astoria looked like she wanted to snap at her sister, but instead settled for a glower that would make any man fear for his life. Daphne just waved as she stepped into the fire and watched as the flames burned bright once more. In the silence Daphne sighed. She had no idea what her sister saw in Draco. She doubted that she ever really would. To her Draco Malfoy would always be a spineless, self-regarding fool.

Daphne waited a good few minutes before taking her turn to use the floo network. By that time Draco and Astoria would have gotten into numerous conversations with influential and probably dull people. They wouldn't even noticed she had arrived. Just the way she liked it. She gently sprinkled the powder into the fire and with a deep breath stepped inside. She hated closed spaces. It was the feeling of being trapped, powerless and out of control that she loathed. It made her skin crawl. She wanted to lash out. But it was the only way to get into the Ministry these days, security had been tightened up ever since the war.

There was the familiar rushing of grates, the dizziness and confusion and then she was stepping out into the huge atrium of the Ministry of Magic. All around her people were talking and laughing. Drinks and food floated about on trays, waiting politely by people before moving onto the next guest. Hitching on a smile, Daphne stepped forwards. Almost instantly, as if from thin air, a slight man with grey hair and lips so thin they almost looked as if they had vanished from his face, appeared.

"Good evening, Lady Greengrass." He said with the faintest trace of a smile. "May I offer you a drink?"

A silver tray floated towards them after an almost unnoticeable gesture from the tall man. Politely and on social automatic pilot Daphne took the offered drink. She thanked the man, offering a forced smile before he nodded and headed off to greet another guest who had appeared from the grate next to her.

She sidestepped the cloud of dust as the man sprawled on the floor, only to be helped up by the drink proffering staff member whose dress robes, Daphne noticed, were far more expensive than those of the young man who had tumbled out of the grate. Sighing she headed off, not wanting to catch the attention of the clearly new and desperate man.

The party was just like any of these things. People talked politely in small, inclusive circles and occasionally would be joined by other dull looking people carrying fine wines and champagnes. For something to do Daphne idly wandered between the clusters of people, occasionally sharing a joke and offering a smile when someone spoke, all the while mentally making a list of all the people she would try to avoid later.

It was only when she was talking to, or rather being talked at by Lord Bulstrode, near the statue at the centre of the atrium, which had been made in the honour of those who had died during the war, that someone caught her eye. Standing, one hand holding a glass of water, the other twitching slightly as the man he was talking to laughed loudly in his face, was none other than Harry Potter. Unlike all the other people in the room he had forgone the traditional dress robes, and instead was wearing a muggle suit, much to the annoyance of most of the onlookers.

Daphne had never seen Potter at one of these things before, as he tended to avoid them despite being the Boy-Who-Lived and an up and coming talent in the Magical Law Enforcement Department. Although his reputation had been somewhat tarred by Ginny Weasley's public hate campaign against him. Daphne, who knew the _Prophet's _habit to inflate a story all too well, had remained undecided about the tale of woe that the Weasley girl had told them. It all seemed far too good to be true. The perfect story. It was funny too how Potter himself was never quoted. The blanks were just filled in for him.

Intrigued, she walked over, ignoring the protest of Lord Bulstrode who sounded offended and moderately drunk. Potter didn't notice her, his attention instead focused on Lord Selby. Selby, however, almost immediately lost interest in Potter and instead turned to Daphne pulling out his most, or so he believed, charming smile.

"Lady Greengrass," he said pompously. "A pleasure to see you again."

"I'm sure," Daphne nodded, eliciting a small smirk from Potter who had turned to her now and was glancing at her with a look that suggested he couldn't quite place her but was sure he knew her. "Good evening, Mister Potter, or should I say Lord Potter-Black?"

"You really shouldn't." Potter told her bitterly. So, he hated his title then. What a surprise. The one consistency with all the stories over the years about Harry Potter, was that he rarely, if at all, ever said anything. Everyone else did that for him. It wasn't much of a leap to realise that he didn't like being famous. It stood to reason, therefore, that he wasn't going to be especially happy being the head of two very important and influential bloodlines. It was just another reason for people to try and suck up to him.

"But it is your title after all, Lord Potter-Black." Selby said looking appalled. Potter's fingers twitched. "It would be a disservice to refer to you by any other name."

"Not all of us follow tradition, Lord Selby." Daphne pointed out, before Potter's clearly short temper got the better of him. "Now, if you will excuse us, Mister Potter and I have some urgent business to discuss."

Without waiting for his response she slipped her hand gently onto Potter's arm and guided him away from Selby, who gaped at the pair of them for a moment for being side-tracked by a woman with too much hair and a bosom the size of a small fleet.

"Thanks," Potter muttered as Daphne guided them towards a far quieter corner of the party. "Who was that guy?"

"Lord Selby," Daphne informed him. "He owns a large portion of the _Daily Prophet. _I suspect that was the reason he seemed so keen to talk to you."

"But he's a moron."

"A rich one too," Daphne agreed, setting down her now empty glass on a hovering tray. "Money can breed stupidity, look at the Malfoy's. But sometimes there is the occasional exception."

"Like you I suppose," Potter said dryly.

"Nice of you to say," Daphne grinned, enjoying twisting his sarcastic response. "I prefer to think of myself as materially gifted rather than rich. Besides, money isn't everything. Look at you, all the money and riches a man could dream of sitting in the Potter and Black vaults and yet you're an auror."

"Not at the moment," Potter added bitterly.

"But you will be," Daphne told him. "Michael Davis is a close family friend, his daughter Tracey and I went to Hogwarts together. He wants you back as much as you want to be."

"So you're that Greengrass," Potter said, completely ignoring her comment. There was a directness about him that Daphne couldn't help but admire. In a world of Pureblood politics and manoeuvring there was little need for men like him. "Daphne, right? Used to hang around with Tracey Davis. Hermione told me about you two once, you were in her Ancient Runes class."

"How is Granger?" Daphne asked fondly. She had always enjoyed trying and sometimes succeeding in beating Granger in their exams. A healthy rivalry was good for the soul, besides she always enjoyed wiping the smug smile off Granger's face every once in a while.

"Fine, she's around somewhere, busy playing international relations I think."

"With Ambassador Delacour and Minister Trimbole?" The two big invitations to this little gathering. The primary reason for the ball, behind the self-serving display of power and authority, was to establish connections. France and Australia, who had been just as partisan as the rest of the world during Voldemort's reign of terror, were some of the only nations willing to help Britain restore its reputation. But people, Daphne knew, never did anything for nothing. The fun part was trying to figure out just what they wanted to gain from all this.

"She said Fleur's dad would be here."

_Ah yes_, Daphne thought idly, _the Weasley's_. She had forgotten about that particular link. Not that it had exactly been publicised. There had been the small matter of the death of the Minister of Magic and the war with Voldemort to contend with. Marriages really didn't make the cut where news was concerned then, shame really.

"Politics bring all sorts of people together," Daphne mused.

"No it doesn't. It brings all the same sort of people together. Just from different places." Potter said, taking a sip from his water, as a he looked out the mingling crowd all fake smiles and emotionless laughs.

Idly Daphne wondered just why Potter was drinking water. At these things everyone drank the same fine drinks but here he was, in his muggle suit, sticking to water. He'd come the one year that people would hate him. Any other time people would have flocked to see the Boy-Who-Lived, shake his hand and ask for his autograph but now. Now the same people looked at him with thinly veiled contempt. Perhaps the most intriguing fact was that he didn't seem to care. Unlike everyone else standing around the Atrium, Potter didn't seem to be bothering to impress. In fact, quite the opposite. So why come at all?

"And yet," Daphne said, "here you are."

"I'm just here for the free food."

"Aren't we all?" she smiled, for the first time perhaps that night the gentle grin she knew reached her eyes.

"So," Potter started finishing off the glass in his hand before setting it on a conveniently floating silver tray. "What is it you actually do? Other than talk to strangers at parties."

"I'm an unspeakable," she told him. She suppressed a grin as she watched his eyebrows knot slightly. It wasn't something that people expected her to be. A lady of the manor, living the life of luxury with no cares in the world, that was what people thought she should be. Ladies didn't become unspeakables, it didn't happen. Or, at least, it didn't very often. But people tended to avoid that, stilling to their beloved stereotypes. "You thought I'd be lazing about in a manor somewhere?"

"No," Potter answered. "Just not poking things with sticks that's all."

"There's a little more to it than that."

"You poke them without the stick too?"

"For your information I haven't poked anything for at least six months," she replied grinning slightly. "Instead we're trying to redesign and develop prototypes for a new batch of time-turners, ever since someone broke all the old ones."

"We were being chased by a bunch of Death Eater's at the time." Potter pointed out. "Besides we broke a lot more of the stupid prophesies than we did time-turners."

"Something that Luidhard hasn't forgiven you for," Daphne told him. Luke Luidhard, who had joined the British Ministry from France almost sixty years previously, had made it his life's work collecting, storing and cataloguing the prophecies within the depths of the Department of Mysteries. To say that he had taken it badly when he had discovered many of the precious artefacts broken was more than an understatement.

"I apologised. Twice."

"Maybe third time is the charm," Daphne suggested. "Though I think he just hates you."

"I'm starting to get that, thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Potter opened his mouth to say something else, but whatever it was Daphne never found out what he was going to say. His emerald eyes shifted behind her, widening in the shock of recognition. Frowning Daphne turned, wanting to see what it was that Potter had seen. The crowd behind them had parted for a moment, as a tall woman in a blue dress stepped out of their midst. The last woman that Potter would ever want to see.

Ginny Weasley.


	4. Revelations

Chapter Four: Revelations

There was a long moment, an awkward pause at the centre of a symphony of chatter and laughter that deafened those who cared to notice. It was a sort of hollow in the sound of the ball, somewhere music started up but Daphne wasn't paying much attention. There was a smattering of applause. Off in the distance she was sure people were dancing, as that was what people did at these sorts of events. But Potter's eyes were going hard, the initial shock fading away being replaced with an anger Daphne suspected had been building up inside him ever since Ginny Weasley had gone to the press.

"Harry," Weasley said eventually, trying to force a grin on her face, but panic was setting in. Her pretty brown eyes kept darting away from Potter's face, off into the crowd. "What are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing." Potter pointed out stiffly, his voice seemed almost empty but his eyes, those emerald eyes were burning. "Since when have you been part of all this? Hermione, she never…" But his voice trailed off. His hand was at his hair. Running through it as he stared at her. The woman who'd torn his life apart.

"She doesn't know I'm here." Weasley confessed. "I was invited."

There was another pause. Potter was too busy trying to keep his fury in check. His fingers flexed. His eyes never left her face. But Weasley never met his gaze, not once, her eyes flicking back into the crowd again. Looking for someone. A name rose to the surface of Daphne's mind, something she'd seen in the newspapers. Cormac McLaggen. Junior head of Magical Games and Sports. The man Potter half beat to death. The supposed friend who had been subject to nothing more than a jealous rage. But then those eyes were on Daphne.

"Who's this?" Weasley asked eventually in an attempt to break the awkward silence and perhaps steer Potter away from her. It was a shame that Daphne wasn't about to give her that chance.

"Daphne Greengrass," Daphne said, before Potter had chance to say anything. "And I actually I only just met Harry. I'd ask who you are, but the _Prophet _did a good job making sure I won't forget you any time soon."

"Not the only thing they did a good job of," Potter seethed.

"Harry -" Weasley tried, her face going pale, the little colour it had drained.

"What?" Potter snapped. "Scared they'll find out what you did?"

"What I did?" Ginny demanded, several people nearby turned, curious to see what was going on. Lord Selby was almost gaping. Dress it up all he wanted he was a reporter at heart, Daphne knew he had more control over the _Prophet _than most gave him credit for and reporters always loved to see a good piece of theatre. But Weasley wasn't finished yet. "You pushed me away, Harry! You left, not me!"

"I loved you," something in Potter's voice sounded broken. Hollow.

"That's rich coming from the man who put his job above me. Not once did you ever put me first, Harry! Not in any of those months you spent chasing Nott and all the months that would've come after, all the ones that came before! I waited for you, Harry, but you never came back!"

"And him?" Potter bellowed.

Weasley didn't say anything for a moment, faltering, aware of the people who had stopped to listen. Aware of the fact her little story could fall down any moment. There was an agony of calculation, underneath the sudden burst of temper Daphne could see the fear. Weasley was scared of what might come out. But Daphne was already putting some of it together. McLaggen and Weasley. Surely she wasn't attracted to a man who would get seven out of ten when asked the question: 'what's your name?'

"When he's with me, he's with me. It's more than you ever did," Weasley said scornfully.

"Me? What about you? You're the one who slept with him!" Potter roared and suddenly the chatter stopped. All around people were turning, even the music had faltered. But Potter didn't notice. All he was interested in was Weasley. But there it was, for everyone to see. The truth. Turned out his jealousy had been for a reason, after all. There were whispers now. People were taking note, finally hearing his side of the story after all these months. The side of the story that for some reason he'd been refusing to tell. "You threw everything we had away!"

"What did we have, Harry?" Weasley shouted, her shock fading to be replaced by what she clearly thought was justified anger but what Daphne saw as a petulant child throwing a tantrum. She'd tossed her engagement aside because she felt Potter wasn't giving enough. "Tell me that! You were never there, not once! You put everything else first, your job, you even made time for your precious godson but never me!"

"What did you expect, for me to just abandon him?" Potter demanded. "He's my godson!"

"And I was your fiancée!" Weasley cried, Daphne had to prevent herself from sighing. She doubted that Weasley knew just how selfish she was sounding, and in a room filled with the most prominent members of Wizarding Britain. There were better places to do this, Daphne mused, but none that would get quite as much press coverage. People were openly talking now, but on the fringes of the crowd that had gathered around them there was a slight commotion. None other than Hermione Granger forced her way through the assembled masses, receiving many pointed glares as she did.

"Ginny, that's enough." Granger tried as she rushed forwards, much to the delight of some of the more engrossed members of the audience. "Harry, I'm sorry, I didn't know she was here, I never would never have asked -"

"It's fine." Potter snapped, his voice harsh. It was only when his eyes moved from Weasley that it softened. "Really, it's fine. I know you wouldn't…" His voice trailed off, he had finally noticed all the gathered observers. Some of them had enough humility to try and look ashamed when they met his gaze, but most continued talking, some pointing, others like Lord Selby, talking quickly to others who would no doubt be reporting on the truth that Potter had let slip the following morning. There was nothing quite like the non-existence of a reporter's morals to make Daphne remember just why she liked being an unspeakable, hidden away in the Department of Mysteries.

"Come on, let's get out of here." Granger said.

"No, you can't just leave Hermione. I'll be fine, seriously."

Granger didn't look convinced, but before she could object Daphne had stepped forwards. "I'll go, Granger, it's not as if I'm needed here. You stay, Ambassador Delacour seems to be looking a little lost without you." The Ambassador dressed in robes clearly not of British design and with the small, yet discernible even from Daphne's vantage point, emblem of the French Ministry embodied on the chest, was talking in what looked like rapid French to the small man beside. Granger's look of concern suddenly became conflicted. It was no secret that it had taken Granger months to convince Delacour and Trimbole to come to this ball, it would take just as long again if negotiations went awry.

"Go, I'll see you later." Potter said and before Granger had chance to object he was walking out of the Atrium, heading towards the visitor's exit rather than forcing his way through the crowd towards the floo network. Daphne offered a quick smile before heading after him. Behind them, as the ball began to get back to normal, a glass smashed. There was no need to look around to know who had thrown it. _Temper, temper Weasley._

Potter didn't say anything as they rode up the false telephone box that would take them to Muggle London. It was only when they had left the far too close confines of the box that he spoke.

"You don't have to come with me you know." He said striding ahead of her, heading down the dark alley. Daphne wondered how strange it would they look to any passing muggles, dressed in clothes that did not suit wandering about the back streets of London. "I don't need a babysitter."

"And here I was thinking you enjoyed my company," Daphne smiled gently. Potter didn't look the type to trust easily, and with a fiancée who had run off with another man it was not hard to understand why. She knew that it was none of her business and that really she should leave well alone and go back to her dusty old home. But she had enjoyed talking to Potter, for once he hadn't been another boring lord or ministry official and by the looks of it he could use the company. More than anything though she was intrigued by him. After all, he wasn't the man that everyone believed he was. Some thought Potter was a hero, others thought he was a jealous boyfriend, although Daphne suspected that view might change. But Potter wasn't anything like what she had been expecting, not that Daphne had a definite idea - it was more of a sense. After so many years of hearing endless stories about him it was hard not to have one. Yet here he was, different and certainly not boring. Daphne wasn't about to let the chance to find out more slip through her fingers. Years as an unspeakable would do that to a person.

"Besides, Astoria won't be home until late, if at all, so you'll be doing me a favour." Daphne added.

"Do you normally do this?" Potter asked sceptically. "Follow strangers home?"

"Only the interesting ones," Daphne joked.

"I'm not one of your pet projects!"

"I never said you were," Daphne said calmly under the look of fury she was being subjected to. It wasn't for her, but Weasley was nowhere to be seen and anger like that couldn't be turned on and off. "What I meant is that, unlike the people who turn up to these boring balls, you are not putting on a show for political point scoring. It's rather refreshing for me to meet someone at one of these things who I actually enjoy talking to."

"You still don't have to come with me," Potter said stubbornly.

"If I don't you'll spend all night alone, which in the circumstances can't be fun, and I will be bored for another few hours before I can go home. I see little point in us both wasting our evenings when we might actually be able to enjoy what remains of it together."

"You're not going to give up are you?" Potter sighed.

"Not a chance," Daphne grinned.

"Fine," Potter said after a moment, holding his hand out to Daphne. After checking that there was nobody able to see them the dark alleyway they apparated. There was a familiar sensation, a rush of wind and colour and then stillness again and suddenly a dark front door was only inches from her face. Daphne knew enough about wards to know that Potter's house wouldn't be the easiest to break into. It was only reason anyone in their right mind would apparate onto a doorstep.

"It isn't much," he told her as he opened the door with a tap of his wand. "After you."

She pushed the large black door open, noticing as she did so the large Hippogriff knocker that hung in just above her head. It looked very similar to the one which had 'mauled' Draco. The house was dark, and for a moment she was staring into nothingness, her eyes taking a moment to readjust to the gloom when the door had swung shut behind them. Potter took the lead, wand in hand, lighting the candles that hung in brackets along both walls. The flickering light illuminated deep red wallpaper, nowhere near as bright as that of the Gryffindor banner, but a darker shade that made the hallway seem far warmer when bathed in candlelight.

"Nice place," Daphne remarked as they headed deeper into the house. The hallway opened up into a far larger room, where a huge staircase spiralled up to her left, next to an empty and more than slightly battered frame that hung on one wall. At the foot of the stairs stood an old coat stand, made of a deep oak that matched dark banister. On it hung two muggle coats, one slightly longer than the other both of the deepest black.

"It was my godfather's, not that he'd be able to tell anymore." Potter told her as he put his jacket on the remaining hook.

Daphne nodded. Everyone knew who Potter's godfather had been. Sirius Black, the man everyone had thought had been responsible for Voldemort finding the Potter's. At least, until Potter himself had gone public about Black's innocence. Conveniently for everyone involved the blame had been put on Barty Crouch Senior's shoulders - dead men couldn't argue. It happily meant that no-one who was still in the Ministry had to admit they hadn't done a good enough job investigating Black in the first place. Typical political move, blame everything on those who couldn't fight back.

"Redecorated?" He had good taste, Daphne had to give him that. It felt far more homely than her manor did. There were barely any signs that her house was in fact a home, but here pictures of people who could only be his family and those close to him lined one wall. Daphne recognised James and Lily Potter, having seen them in newspapers the year after the war had ended due to several pieces about Potter's past, waved happily from their silver frames. A small boy, who Daphne could only assume was the godson Potter had mentioned earlier, was laughing as he desperately tried to catch the small golden snitch that whizzed around him.

"Everything but the stuff we couldn't shift like that," Potter said pointing to the old frame. "There's a bloody permanent sticking charm on the frame."

"You've done a good job," Daphne commented as she walked further down the hall, her footsteps muffled by the thick light coloured carpet. It must have cost a fortune to redecorate the place, everything looked almost brand new. Potter must have gutted the place.

"It's not much," he said again as he pushed open a door to her right. She followed him down a flight of stairs and into the kitchen. This two had been subject to the same treatment, furniture that looked barely used, light pinewood worktops and even a new cooker. Bookshelves lined one wall, instead of the traditional display cases that Daphne had become so used to in her own house. On one shelf stood a small framed picture of a group of people, some of whom Daphne vaguely recognised except they were far younger than she had ever seen them. Remus Lupin, Albus Dumbledore, Mad-Eye Moody and even Sirius Black, handsome and with a roughish smile. She forced herself to look away, a hollow pit had opened in her stomach. Most of these men and women were dead, fallen in wars with Voldemort, and yet so very much alive in the confines of the photograph.

"Tea?" Potter asked as turned on the gas cooker. "I've got a mug somewhere around here. I swear Hermione didn't use the last-" There was a pause as he opened a cupboard door and reached inside, retrieving a plain white mug. "There."

"Two sugars, thanks," Daphne replied turning to him, forcing the photo out of her mind. He nodded and set about making the tea, fetching milk and sugar from various cupboards. None of it was done by magic, Daphne noticed, seeing his wand lying on the work surface. It was not forgotten - he was an auror for Merlin's sake - just apparently not needed. It was as if his first instinct was to work by hand. Daphne filed it away in the back of her mind, a question for another time perhaps.

"Why did you never say anything?" Daphne asked as she took a place at the table.

"Sorry?"

"About Weasley? All those months and you never said a word, you just took what they had to say. Why? People hated you."

"People have always hated me," Potter told her darkly. "You get used to it."

"But you could've avoided it, told them what really happened." Daphne said again. It was the one thing that had been puzzling her. Listening to the two argue, watching Weasley's ill-justified tantrum and seeing Potter finally crack and dish out what she deserved, Daphne had wondered why he had never said anything before. If he had then months of press abuse could have been avoided. The Auror Department might not have forced him to take leave for another thing. "But you didn't."

"No, I didn't," Potter agreed. He sighed, turning to the kettle that was coming to the boil. The high-pitched noise filled the room before Potter lifted it off the gas and began pouring them both tea. "It was none of their damn business. It was no-one's but ours."

"Weasley didn't see it that way."

"Yeah, well Ginny likes an audience," Potter sighed. "She always has. There's a reason I don't go out to those parties anymore. It's because I never wanted to go in the first place. I just want to be left alone."

"That's never going to happen, Potter."

"Don't I know it?" Potter said with a slight laugh. But there was no humour in it. He was silent for a moment, taking the seat opposite her before setting down the mugs on the table. "You know, it's a shame no-one can decide if they hate me or not, it'd make it a lot easier."

"Fame is a fickle friend,"

"Lockhart told me that once," Potter grinned slightly. "About the only thing he ever said that was right."

"It wasn't what he said that was that bad, it was what he did, releasing pixies into a second year class is just asking for trouble." Daphne had fortunately missed that particular class but she'd heard about it, Malfoy wouldn't shut up about how useless the Gryffindors were at dealing with them. Slytherins and Gryffindors were kept apart for their own good and as much as the timetable allowed. Flying Lessons and Potions were the only lesson Daphne remembered sharing with the whole of Potter's house, not being stupid enough to take Care of Magical Creatures. Granger was odd in the fact that she took Arithmancy and Ancient Runes, one of the few Gryffindors that did.

"Duelling Snape was a worse idea."

"I don't know, Snape could've done more damage. What ever happened to Lockhart, anyway?"

"He's still St Mungo's I think," Potter told her with a shrug. "Accidental memory charm."

"How do you know that?" Daphne asked incredulously. Dumbledore had told everyone at the end of her second year that Lockhart was off travelling somewhere to conduct research for his new book. When he had never really resurfaced she had put his disappearance down to the acts of a werewolf or something that had gotten sick of that stupid smile of his.

"I saw him once, when we were visiting Ron's dad there." Potter said with a shrug, it looked as if he was on the verge of saying something else but stopped himself. It was almost as if he was reminding himself that whatever he was about to say was private. She could respect that, clinging to whatever shred of privacy he had left. But that didn't stop her wanting to find out more. Nevertheless she held her tongue. Potter wasn't something, as he liked to call it, that she could poke with a stick and see what happened. People rarely liked being prodded for information they didn't want to give. Besides, he'd just had a fight with his ex-fiancé and the last thing he would want was constant questions.

"Anyway, why don't you tell me about yourself?" Potter asked changing the topic with absolutely no subtlety. "Seeing as you seem to know so much about me."

"A constant public presence will do that," Daphne smirked, sipping at her tea which was beginning to cool to the right temperature. "I've only got one sister, Astoria, she's a couple younger than us and was in Ravenclaw at Hogwarts. My father used to be an auror, like you, but now he's Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts. I've been working as an unspeakable for the past four years. I'm an awful cook but I can play the piano."

"You play the piano?"

"My father liked us to do something productive during the summer. Astoria learnt how to dance, and to say she was delighted when she managed to convince someone to invite her to the Yule Ball would be an understatement." Daphne replied.

Her father wasn't one for wasting time, long afternoons spent just reading a book or taking walks around Greengrass Manor, as Daphne had always done as a girl, weren't his idea of fun. When she and Astoria had been kids all they had done during one summer, with Tracey Davis in tow more times than not, was explore the manor playing stupid games for afternoons at a time. But that had all changed when Daphne had gone to Hogwarts. That was the year it all changed. The year she couldn't be a child any more.

"Why? It was awful."

"It wasn't the best," Daphne agreed. "But it was expected. Just like everything else in our world. Although, that seems to be changing these days."

"Changing?"

"Before your little fight with Lord Voldemort do you know the best that Granger could have achieved?" Daphne asked curiously, when Potter shrugged she continued. "Barely anything, most muggleborns go back into their own world after Hogwarts, those who stay find getting work difficult to say the least. But then came the war and you, a muggleborn and a blood traitor stood against Voldemort and his army of blood supremacist fanatics and we all know who won. You proved that blood doesn't always rule."

"It was never about that," Potter protested.

"Doesn't matter, it's what it became. Your war is symbolic, Potter."

"Your war?" Potter asked frowning. "You always say that, 'your', like you weren't a part of it."

"That is because I wasn't. My family didn't take a side. We certainly weren't throwing our lot in with Voldemort but, no offence Potter, you weren't a safe bet either. Nobody had a clue if you were even alive until you turned up at Hogwarts and by then all I wanted to do was get Astoria out of that castle."

She remembered what it had been like. The war and her father leaving the aurors. Potter's return, the Slytherins being sent down to the dungeons or evacuated with everyone else. Getting Astoria out had been all that had mattered. Once they had gotten back to the manor there had been little point taking a side and a few hours later the fighting stopped and the war was over. Taking sides, she came to realise, really was for the short sighted. It was risky and left the future up to chance and the hope that someone else would secure it for you.

"Makes sense," Potter nodded, "you were looking out for your sister."

"Not that she thanked me for it," Daphne said, remembering the protestations of her sister who had been desperate to fight as some of her friends had done. It was all so chaotic that anyone could stay behind if they wanted to. Only weeks later, when the dead were honoured and one of Astoria's friends, Clara Burgess, had been among them it was only then that the younger Greengrass realised why her sister had dragged her from the battle. It was so as she didn't have to drag her from the rubble. It was only when Daphne dragged herself from the memory that she realised Potter's eyes too had glazed over, lost in the past he could never return to.

"So, Potter," she said, bringing him back to the present, "tell me, who do you think will win, the Tornados or the Wasps?"

Daphne hadn't been expecting quite as much of an eager reaction as she gotten. Potter's face lit up at the mention of his boyhood sport and the two spent the next half an hour debating who would win the cup at the end of the season, who would be transferred to where and ultimately how badly the Chudley Cannons would do ever since they sold their top scorer, Eric Tilden. The conversation then drifted, moving back to Hogwarts, reminiscing from different sides of the House lines, although Potter never said more than she already knew, and talking about how the school had changed with McGonagall as Headmistress. It was only when Potter checked his watch that, after their third cup of tea, they realised just how late it was getting.

"Is this connected?" Daphne asked gesturing to the fire as Potter put their mugs in the sink.

"Jar's on the mantle," Potter said in answer what he likely knew would be her next question. The jar sat to one side of the light wooden mantelpiece, which stood bare of any ornaments except for the black round jar. She opened it, placing the lid on the mantel beside it.

"See you around then, Potter." Daphne smiled as she took a pinch of powder.

"Maybe we could go out for coffee sometime?" Potter suggested.

"I'd like that, I think," Daphne nodded. "Guess I'll see you soon then, Potter."

"Guess so, goodnight." Potter agreed, a small sort of smile pulling at his lips. It was strange seeing him smile, replacing the face of stone that he usually wore. Life hadn't exactly been fair to Potter, but then again, life was never fair to anyone. Daphne knew that as well as anyone but there was no point wallowing in self-pity, moving on was the only solution. You couldn't help what had happened, you could only make sure you didn't let it beat you, she'd learnt that a long time ago.

"Night," Daphne said just before she threw the powder into the burning fire and stepped back out of Potter's home and few seconds later was walking into her own. But instead of being greeted by a dark house, as she had expected, warm candle light bathed the room in a yellow hue. Sitting on the sofa, a book on her lap and out of her evening dress and instead wearing a fine silk dressing gown Draco had bought her, was Astoria.

"You're back late," she commented slipping in a book mark before shutting it. "Where have you been? We couldn't find you at the ball when we left. Someone said you'd left with Potter after that fight he had with Weasley but you've never even spoken to him."

"Not until tonight, Tori, no." Daphne replied heading for the door. She flashed her sister a quick smile and was given only a stunned stare in return. "Don't stay up too late."

And with that she walked out of the room leaving Astoria to only gape after her.


	5. Two Steps Forwards, One Step Back

Chapter Five: Two Steps Forwards, One Step Back

Ginny Weasley, trapped in her flat, unable to go outside due to the dozens of reporters camped on her doorstep, was busy filling her day by staring into nothingness at her kitchen table and catching up on her foot dangling. The press had more been more than a little damning of her, and despite the fact that she was on every front page – at least of the papers and magazines that people actually read – there were still reporters desperate to talk to her. Ginny ignored them, they wouldn't give her side even if she did go out there. Everyone felt like they already had it. All the stories had come out in defence of Harry against the adulterous, selfish and treacherous witch he'd been engaged to. Even Harry wouldn't listen, not that that was something new. He'd shut himself away from everyone after it had happened and apparently was unable to talk to Ginny without shouting.

Ginny had never meant it to go like this, never wanted it to. After the war had ended she had hoped, dreamed even, that she would be able to live her happily ever after with Harry. But he hadn't been the Harry she had dreamt about spending the rest of her life with. He hadn't come back to her, not all of him, and the more Ginny spent time with him the more he had drifted away. The aurors had taken Harry from her. He'd given almost all of himself to the job and the rest didn't go to her.

The rest went instead to Teddy Lupin. He had been orphaned, born different to every other witch and wizard around him and with barely any family left to care for him. It was no wonder Harry saw so much of himself in Teddy. History had repeated itself. The only difference was that Harry had vowed never to be as absent as Sirius had had to be. That had left Ginny discarded. Alone in their house and waiting for the fairy tale that was never going to come.

Ginny knew now that should have left then and just have been honest with herself, with Harry. But she'd been angry and hurt, abandoned and forgotten, so instead of being honest she had gone into the arms of another. When Harry had found out, discovered Ginny with the man who actually made time for her, he hadn't bothered trying to figure out why she'd done it. All Harry had done, after beating Cormac half to death, was hide.

Part of Ginny wished she had been the one to go the press. At least then she would deserve all the hatred that was screaming off every front page. But she hadn't. Not really. Trying to drown her sorrows in far more wine than was good for her, Ginny had poured her heart out to the only person she could. Luna Lovegood, home from one of her many trips abroad, had heard almost everything. How Harry had come home, beaten Cormac black and blue and how Ginny had spent years waiting for him to come back to her. She had blamed everything on him. But pubs weren't exactly known for being secure places where no-one overheard anything and by morning her drunken tirade was splashed everywhere. The only reason Ginny hadn't said anything was because she knew how much it would hurt him. At that point that was all she wanted. To hurt him like he'd hurt her for all those years that he'd left her alone. Forgotten.

They'd always said her temper was going to get her in trouble, and as Ginny stared at the flock of owls perched and her window sill, she knew that it finally had. She needed to make things right but every time she saw him they just argued. Harry wasn't about to admit he'd been even slightly in the wrong and every time she clapped eyes on him it all flooding back. The memories. Ginny knew she had been stupid to think they were made for each other and that their problems were just like any other couple's. She had hoped that they'd work it out. Everyone had, they had all said it would last forever. Ginny would have laughed at them now. Nothing lasted that long. Everything had to end. Even Harry's silence had broken, and the press finally knew what she had been too ashamed to tell them. She was glad, in a way. It meant no more hiding, no more lies.

But that was the only good that had come from this. Ginny didn't even have Cormac now, he'd gone. So much for being the only man who would be there for her. Given all those promises he had made, it was amazing how they vanished when he was being made out to be as evil as she apparently was. At least, that was the gist Ginny had managed to get before she had thrown the paper away. There was only so much she could read about how vile she was before she wanted a change of subject.

It was at that moment there came a knock at the door. Hesitant at first, and then louder and louder again when she ignored it. Probably just Cormac forgetting something from when he'd left earlier or a stupid reporter that wanted to get her side of the story.

"Ginny?" came her brother's voice, muffled by the wood of the door. "You in there?"

"Ron?" Ginny yelled back before hurrying to the door, fumbling slightly for her wand before giving it a quick flick. The latch came free and then she was there opening the door. On the other side, his hair damp from rain that wasn't falling in London, stood Ron, a conflicted look on his face. Ron never had been very good at hiding his feelings.

"Hey,"

"Hi," he said, forcing a half smile. There was an awkward moment filled with the pointed hoots of the several owls perching on her window sill. "Can I come in?"

Ginny nodded and threw the door wide stepping back as she did so to let him in. Ron had only been in the flat a once and had nearly finished the job Harry had started when Cormac had been the one to answer the door. Since then she had barely seen Ron, or basically any other member of her family, as only her mother seemed willing to look past her mistake.

Ginny guided Ron through the kitchen and into the living room. He settled onto the sofa, melting slightly into the soft brown fabric. Ginny perched on the chair, throwing the set of dress robes she had left there onto the glass table in the middle of the room.

"So," Ron began, staring at an empty patch of floor before looking up at her. "Hermione told me what happened, last night. With Harry. She's, well, she's not very happy about it. I'm not exactly thrilled, either. I mean why drag it all up again, Ginny? They'd forgotten, people were moving on and Harry, I don't know about Harry."

"You haven't seen him?"

"I haven't spoken to him since it happened really," Ron hadn't spoken to Ginny much either because he had done what he always did when things like this happened: stayed well out of the way. It had been that or take a side, and whichever one he took he would have upset the other. So instead he inadvertently upset everyone. "I don't know when we're seeing him. Hermione wants to go and apologise again for…" He trailed off, going back to staring at the floor. "But we can't go until after tomorrow anyway, he's got an appointment with that Carnell woman."

"He actually went?" She knew it was protocol to go to those sessions, it had come in when Harry had just started as an auror. But the Harry she knew was hardly likely to talk to someone like Carnell about all his problems, especially when everyone was already talking about him.

"He had to," Ron said. "Davis wouldn't let him back otherwise. He hasn't got a choice, it was either that or sack him."

"Like he'd do that," Ginny scoffed.

"Exactly," there was another pause. Awkward and long. Painful. Ginny had known the risks when she had gotten involved with Harry, but that was back when she had thought it would never end. Then Ron frowned. "Where's McLaggen?"

"He's gone," Ginny said darkly. "Left before I got up, didn't even leave a note."

It wasn't that she had been surprised, not really. Ginny had known what a worm Cormac was, but she'd fooled herself into believing he had changed. There was good reason that Ron and Harry hated the spineless, treacherous bastard. First Seamus and Michael and now Cormac. Men, she quickly came to realise, she had used just to get Harry's attention. But this time it had been more than that. It had been her way of lashing out.

"Git," Ron commented bitterly. "Should have let Harry finish the job."

"I thought I loved him."

"And now?"

"Now? I'd rather marry Malfoy."

"It's a start, a gross one, but a start." Ron said grimacing at the mention of Malfoy and marriage. The absurdity of marrying the blonde snake made her laugh despite herself, the sudden image of her mother and father's faces if she ever bought Malfoy home swam to her mind. A smile cracked on Ron's face too. "It'd be worth it just to see mom kill him."

"Now that you mention it…" Ginny grinned.

"Not funny." Ron said, although his face betrayed him.

"I could have a green dress." Ron laughed shaking his head, still looking disgusted by the idea either of his sister marrying Malfoy or the fact he'd have to be his brother-in-law. She wasn't sure which he'd hate more. But when the laughter died away Ginny looked at him, really looked. In that moment it hit her just how much she had really missed Ron.

"Look, Ron, I'm sorry about this. All of it. It shouldn't have happened."

"But it did." Ron countered evenly.

"But it shouldn't have."

"Not the point," Ron said. He looked at her and somehow he seemed older, not the childish brother she had always known, immature to a fault. "I've never told you this, but you know when we were hunting the horcruxes? Well, there's no easy way to say this. We only had one of the stupid things and no way to destroy it, we had no plan, no food and we had to wear that thing and I… I left. I couldn't handle it. I'm not making excuses, I was an idiot but that thing it… it did things to me. It made me think things. Not good things."

He was silent for a moment. Staring. Lost in the past. Ginny felt her eyes go wide. Harry, Hermione, neither of them had ever said anything. Not once. Not that they really talked about it, but Ginny had always thought that they had been together. How could Ron just leave? He was a good man, brave, loyal. He wouldn't just leave. She only had to look at him to realise just how wrong she was.

Then his eyes fell back on her, the darkness in them fading, and he started again. "My point is, I screwed up. I let them down. It happens. What matters is that I went back. I apologised. I'm not going to say Harry's going to take you back or anything, but you should still do the same."

"Why? What good will it do?"

"More than if you didn't," Ron replied before getting to his feet. "I'd better get back, only got a short break. Just think about it, eh?" She nodded, walking him to the door. There was a hug, a small smile and then he was gone vanishing into thin air as soon as he crossed the threshold.

oOo

Harry hated waiting. It was like queuing but with less shoving and more staring aimlessly into space hoping something interesting would happen. Although, the chances of something from the category of interesting happening in a practically empty waiting room were not exactly high. He couldn't even distract himself with a newspaper or magazine without being greeted by huge photos of himself or Ginny. Ever since the damn ball Harry had been glad he lived in a house that was almost impossible to find unless you knew where it was. An inherent distrust of reporters meant that Harry had never been foolish enough to allow any of them within throwing distance.

Daphne on the other hand was having no such luck, although she had been quick to point out that they couldn't get passed the gates. They would give up eventually. The reporters had been desperate for information on Harry and had turned to the woman he had been seen leaving with from the ball. They would have had a field day if they had known he'd bought her home.

Harry had asked why and all the other invasive questions, but in all honesty he wasn't too sure himself. He knew he would have had to leave the Ministry with her if only to stop Hermione from fretting, but after that, why hadn't he just gone home alone? Maybe he had just been sick of it, going back to an empty house, night after night alone. Harry had enjoyed what little of her company he had shared in, but when it came down to it a part of him knew he just wanted a distraction. Something, anything to take his mind off Ginny. Daphne had been that. A way to block it out. But as the evening had gone on he had realised he just enjoyed talking to her, ex-Slytherin or not.

Had they met a few years ago there was no way Harry would have even spoken to her, let alone admitted that he liked her. There were some boundaries in Hogwarts you just didn't cross. Besides, the only Slytherin he had had any real contact with was Malfoy and he was not exactly the best way to represent a whole house. Quidditch hadn't made it any easier to like the Slytherins, as the team had always delighted in taking any opportunity to hex Harry and his teammates. Really, Harry had never stood much of a chance to like them. But it wasn't as if he had tried either.

He was torn from his thoughts when the door to Eliza's office opened and a man dressed in far too much tweed for Harry's liking stepped out. Strangely though he didn't even give Harry a second glance on his way to the door.

"Mr Williams is one of my muggle patients," Eliza explained when Harry had walked into her sanctum. "I thought you might appreciate it."

"You deal with muggles?" Harry asked taking off his jacket and folding it over the back of the chair she had prepared for him before he sat down. The auror in him couldn't stop asking questions. "What if they see anything?"

"I book them next to each other," Eliza replied taking her seat. "Then we close for lunch."

"And after that you stop dealing with muggles and deal with us."

"Exactly, unless I have someone like yourself who can be discreet, of course." Eliza said with one of her pretty smiles. Harry just smirked. People rarely ever called him discreet. If at all. Ever. Reckless, impulsive and far too short-tempered for his own liking, sure. But never discreet. "How are you feeling today?"

"Fine," Harry said initially, reflex kicking in knowing that if he told her she would just keep asking about Ginny. But then the rest of his brain caught up. She would know, of course she would. Everyone did. There was no point hiding it. Eliza wasn't stupid and it was splashed over all the papers. "I guess, I mean considering everything that happened. With Ginny."

"You guess?"

"I'm not really sure how I feel," he shrugged. "Relieved? Not that it was fun to see her again. It's just out there. What she did."

He hadn't read the _Prophet_ but he knew what kind of a hatchet job they would be doing. A part of him, small but vindictive all the same, wanted her to suffer the way he had. But at the same time he still cared about her, he'd loved for Merlin's sake, seeing her in pain no matter what she had done was the last thing he wanted. It was why he hadn't said anything. Not that he wanted to be left alone like he had told Daphne.

"But she's going to have to go through what I did. All of it."

"You don't want that? You don't want to see her hurt like she hurt you?"

"No," Harry answered honestly.

"You still care about her?"

"In a way. It's not like a light switch you can't just turn it off when you feel like it."

"And that's why you don't understand," Eliza said, her smile long since faded away. "Because you still care you can't see why she would leave." He nodded. "Harry, this may be hard for you. But would mind telling me about her and your relationship? From the beginning if you can."

"It started really for her when we were kids," Harry began remembering how awkward she had been when he first saw her at the Burrow, star struck and haphazard. He never would have imagined that he'd have ended up nearly marrying her. From there he told Eliza everything, the way she hadn't been able to talk to him, even after he'd saved her from Riddle. Fifth year when she had started dated people, much to Ron's disapproval. He ever told her about seeing her again at the ball. All of it.

Eliza didn't interrupt, didn't ask him to stop so she could jot anything down, she just listened. Harry knew full well that if he hadn't run into Ginny the night before there wouldn't have been a chance he would have said anything. But he was tired of being confused. Lost. He needed answers. Answers that weren't just blaming him, anyway. He wasn't perfect but neither was Ginny, not by a long way.

"Harry, have you ever thought maybe she never stopped loving the hero she had heard about in all those bed time stories? When she started dating those boys I think she just trying to get you to notice her, think of her as more than your best friend's sister. It seems to me that you've always been that hero for her, saving her from the Chamber of Secrets, fighting dragons even killing Voldemort. But when she truly got to know you, I think she realised you weren't the man she told herself for so long that you were."

"So you're saying, what? She never loved me?"

"I'm saying she loved the idea of you," Eliza said almost sadly. "And that might be part of why, when she didn't see you as much as she might have liked, she felt abandoned because even when you were there you weren't the person she wanted. I'm not saying that's the whole reason why she felt like that. Not everybody can deal with living with an auror. It takes a toll, on both of you."

"You can say that again," Harry muttered darkly. As much as he loved being an auror there had been days where he couldn't even remember sleeping. Sleep, not being unconscious. Hunting Nott had done that to him. Late night shifts did too. Double shifts caused by a lack of recruits. Too many had been lost against Voldemort and there were no signs of people flooding in. But despite it all he loved it. Harry had always been the one who had to do what others couldn't, why not be paid for it he had reasoned. But it was more than that. He didn't want to carry on his life without it anymore. "But it's worth it. In the end."

Harry got through the rest of the meeting on autopilot, putting yes and no in all the right places. It was a skill he had developed when Hermione repeatedly went over her work in their N.E.W.T year. Her stress levels having hit sky high. He only shifted back into the conversation when he knew it was almost time to leave, ready to book another appointment. It didn't take a genius to realise that Eliza had noticed, but she didn't press the issue. His mind was too busy thinking about what she had said to care if she did anyway. Ginny. What if Eliza was right? The more he thought about it, the more her words made sense. Ginny had never gotten over her schoolgirl crush. Dean. Michael. Had they just been a way to get him to notice her?

Harry was only mildly aware of leaving Eliza's office. He didn't bother going home straight away. The train going round his head couldn't stop. Everything was changing. He went over it all. Analysing everything. The jealousy he'd felt in Sixth Year, finding her again after the battle, asking her to marry him. All that time. Everything. Ginny had never loved _him_, but the idea of him. Convinced herself that he was this hero, Harry Potter the legend. Not the man. Maybe Ginny thought she had cared about him, but if she really had, then why hadn't she done something? Told him she couldn't take living with an auror. Anything else. But she hadn't, she'd left. Harry felt dull. He had no idea where his feet were taking him, and didn't really care.

He vaguely registered arriving home, fumbling with his wand, tapping the door. He wasn't too sure where he threw his jacket, it landed somewhere to his left when the door had slammed shut. Everything went silent. Drained he slumped against the wall, sliding down. The anger would come. He could already feel it dimly, bubbling under the surface. But other than that he felt dull. Empty.

"So," he heard himself say to the empty house, his voice barren. Dead. "Now what?"


	6. Coffee

Chapter Six: Coffee

Daphne sat in the coffee bar she had agreed to meet Potter in mild bemusement as she watched muggles walk past her, going about their everyday lives. Everyone seemed to be in a rush. Not a single person took time to enjoy the sunshine, or rather relative sunshine when compared to the drab grey cloudiness that had claimed far too many days already that week. The ability to travel anywhere in a moment, Daphne decided, would have cut down on all the rushing and running. There was far too much of it. She had almost spilled her drink twice on the way to her table, bounced about by arrogant men talking into whatever it was they held to their ears. All of the muggles seemed to have one, little tiny boxes of light. From the tiny amount of time she had devoted to studying them she came to the conclusion they were for communication. That, and looking at pictures of cats if the woman wearing far too much black was anything to go by. Daphne had never understood the attraction to cats.

She had wait another few minutes before Harry arrived. It was not that he was late. Far from it. Well, not that far, admittedly, but Daphne had made the effort to be early. Primarily because she hadn't been too sure where the coffee shop had been, let alone what it looked like. Clad in jeans, a white shirt and slightly crumpled and creased blazer Potter blended perfectly into their surroundings. Although, she admitted, it was quite hard not to. People didn't even glance at the man on the other side of the restaurant who had glinting bits of metal sticking out of his face. Daphne had gone for a simple skirt and dark green blouse, leaving her heavy Ministry robes at work.

"Hi," Harry said with a slightly awkward wave. It was only when he was closer to her, within hearing range, she noticed the deep bags under his eyes. His hair was also more dishevelled than she had last seen it, although she put that down to him not bothering to try and fight it. Even at the ball he had failed to tame it but he had at least gone to a degree of effort. "Take it you managed to find it okay?"

"Easily enough," Daphne assured him. "I didn't realise it was this close to the Ministry. All this time and I had no idea about any of this."

"Better get used to that feeling." Harry told her. "We're the ones doing the hiding, remember?"

He paused, his hands rummaging around in the pocket of his jacket before pulling out some money. She had made a trip to Gringotts the day before to get enough for her little trip to the muggle world. Lord Selby, who had been having a rather loud argument with a stubborn goblin, had kept giving her sideways glances hoping to find a story no doubt. She didn't have to put too much thought into the wild versions of her day that he had probably concocted. A muggle love affair, for instance.

"I'll be right back," Harry said after having quickly glanced at the menu above the counter.

It took a few minutes for Harry to get a drink and fight his way back to her. The tiny shop was overflowing, people kept giving Daphne pointed looks as they waited around for a table, hoping she would surrender hers in the face of silent pressuring. She just smiled and continued to sip at her drink, far slower than before and taking far more satisfaction from their even steelier glares than she probably should have.

"Do you want to walk and drink?" Harry asked when he came back having just had to fight his way through three people who were being far too preoccupied staring at the menu above them to notice his existence, let alone the fact she wanted to get through. She nodded and together they headed out the shop, their seats taken by the girls who had spent too much time to be considered healthy glaring at Daphne.

They walked in silence for a moment, Harry leading them onto the main street but then quickly down a side road, heading away from the bustling crowd flocking to the many shops they left behind.

"Tori couldn't quite believe that you'd asked me out today," Daphne said after the silence continued, trying to fill the gap left by Harry's absence. There was something bothering him - it was a clear as a rampaging Hippogriff. "Although, she thinks all of my friends come out of the Department of Mysteries."

"It's hardly surprising," Harry pointed out. "I didn't know you. No offense but I probably still don't."

"I could say the same about you," Daphne added. It was true, other than what she already knew about him, the stuff that she had seen from the side-lines the same as everyone else, she didn't know much about Harry. Even when they had been talking about his failed love life with Weasley he had deflected and dodged her questions. All she thought she knew about him flew in the face of what he was actually like. He wasn't pig-headed or heroic or any of that. It was part of what intrigued her. Unanswered questions.

"What's your favourite colour?"

"Seriously?" The incredulity was clear in his voice but Daphne just grinned.

"Why not?" Daphne asked. It was a stupid question, she knew, but it was something. A detail. Where else was there to start? Harry wasn't exactly forthcoming and she wasn't about to ask what was bothering him. That was a can of worms that could hopefully be passed over if she side-tracked him long enough.

"Red. You?"

"Blue. Not dark a more light, powder I think you'd call it."

"Why did you want to be an unspeakable?" Harry asked when she didn't say anything.

"It's what I always wanted to do, ask questions and get answers. Discover new things. I could never be a boring Lady of the manor, although I am one, technically." Daphne answered. Being an unspeakable, as Harry had so bluntly put it, was essentially poking things and seeing what happened. Except far more complicated. "Take what I'm doing at the moment, for example, I'm working on improving time turners."

"I thought you were meant to be restoring them."

"And improving," Daphne told him. "Why be limited to a few hours or even days? If you have enough patience to do all the turns it would take then I imagine you could go back further."

"You imagine?" Harry repeated.

"Anyone who ever tried didn't show up again. The more you turn them the more unstable they become, they were never designed for long journeys." Daphne said, she was vaguely aware that the route they were taking was directing them back to the public entrance of the Ministry. She wasn't exactly sure how long it would take, as apparating made judging distances more difficult than it should be. "I'm trying to see if it can be done. It's like being an auror really, ask the right questions you get results, don't and well… We still haven't managed to find Reggie yet."

"Reggie?"

"A dog we were testing one of the new time turners on," Daphne explained. "We were trying to send him into the future by a few minutes. That was last week. I'm sure he'll turn up, somewhere."

"Somehow having curses thrown at me all the time doesn't seem so bad now," Harry mused sipping at his drink.

"Glad I could help," Daphne grinned. He just nodded and went back to drinking. There was still something that didn't quite feel right. For all his misery and bad-tempered nature at the Ministry he had still been a modicum of fun. Better than anyone Astoria ever tried to introduce her to. Supposed men of standing who all seemed far too interested in anything but standing with her. She knew she was going to have to do it. There was no way around it and patience, despite her work, wasn't one of her virtues. "How are things, by the way?"

"Fine."

"Want to try telling your face that?" Daphne asked only deepening his furrowed brow further. He didn't look at her, his eyes going down to his feet. She had to resist the temptation to walk away, budding friendship or not he was acting like a child. "Look, Harry, I know something's bothering you. Might as well just tell me because let's be honest who have I got to tell? Really?"

He continued with his intent staring. She was about to snap, about to tell him to go to hell, that if he really wanted a friend then maybe he should try opening up once in awhile. Strong and silent types were isolated for a reason. But she didn't get to say any of that. Not a bit.

"Ginny," it came out more like a whisper than anything else and she almost missed it. "Eliza, my - the woman the Department told me I needed to see - she said that Ginny probably had never really seen me. For me. Just the idea of me. The Boy Who Lived. I mean I loved her and if Eliza is right she never felt the same."

Daphne was quiet for a moment, not exactly surprised. She couldn't disagree with anything he had said. From he had told her and the glimpses she had seen, Weasley had fallen for the hero who'd saved the damsel in distress. What a surprise. But that's why people should never meet their heroes, or sleep with them. _No story lives up to reality_, Daphne thought sadly. If it did, why would anybody need fairy tales?

"So what if she didn't?" Daphne asked, not unkindly. "You loved her and you got your heart broken, that was true before and it's still true now. Want my advice? Move on."

"That's easy for you to say."

"It's easy for anyone to say, you've just got to decide what's more important, clinging to something that makes you miserable or putting it aside and starting over. I know which one I'd pick." _After all I did_, she added to herself trying to block out the memory that she knew would come flooding to the surface. She hadn't thought about that for a long time and she wasn't about to start now.

"Thanks," Harry said a sad smile on his face.

"Don't mention it."

There was a silence for a moment, but she didn't press it. Harry needed time in his head, sort out all the demons in there. Sure, he was damaged goods, you could tell that by looking at him. But Daphne knew from experience that somewhere along the line most people were.

"You got any plans?" Harry asked eventually. Not exactly scintillating stuff but he was trying.

"Finish at work and then I'm seeing Tracey at the Leaky Cauldron." Daphne replied. It had been too long since she had met up with Tracey, mainly because her best friend had been working double shifts at Saint Mungo's all week. Between sleeping, working and occasionally eating she had no time to see anyone. Trying to get a promotion wasn't easy, but Tracey never really knew when to take no for answer. "What about you? A glamorous night out? A charity event? One of those little parties that only rich people can afford to go to?"

"Funny."

"You're the millionaire, not me. Admittedly only just, but who's counting?"

"No, no parties. I'm seeing my godson though. I make sure I do every night." There was a sincerity in his voice that was sweet. Harry really did care about his godson. Most people, in Daphne's experience, took the duty of godparent rather lightly. She had only ever met her godmother once and as for her godfather, the last Daphne heard he was in Peru. But Harry was not most people.

"Teddy, right?" Harry nodded. "His father was a good man, don't tell dad but he was probably one of the best Defence Against the Dark Arts teachers Hogwarts will ever have."

"Like to think he's the best?"

"He likes to aim to be," Daphne corrected. It was something he had always tried to instil in Daphne and Astoria as children. The way he saw it if you were going to do anything you might as well it right. No point doing it otherwise. The consummate professional, supposedly. Although, Daphne got to see him when he shut the world out. Her father wasn't just a man of principles and a dedicated work ethic. But he wasn't overly fond of sharing that fact with everyone else.

"How long has he been doing it now?"

"Six years, going on seven." Daphne told him. "He took the job after we left, although Tori wasn't lucky enough to miss out on having him teach her N.E.W.T's."

"He broke the curse then. Does he enjoy it?" Harry asked clearly intrigued.

"He seems to," she replied. Her father liked to keep his home life and work life separate. Mainly because he spent so much time at Hogwarts. "Did you? And don't look at me like that, Harry, everyone knew you headed up that little band of misfits in fifth year. Malfoy wouldn't shut up about it."

"Yeah, it was good. You should have joined."

"I think you're forgetting something. I was in Slytherin remember? Half of, what were you called the D.A.?" He nodded. "Well, half of that lot would have hated me on sight. Not just the Gryffindors either. I wouldn't have needed to anyway."

"Why not?"

"I was still getting E's despite Umbridge's woeful teaching." Daphne said a little smugly. She had worked hard to get that grade. Unlike almost three quarters of their year, she hadn't had help from Harry. Daphne had had to it the hard way. Revising, practicing where she knew no-one else could see and convincing her father it would be a good idea to let her into the family library. There were books in there that certainly were not for the faint hearted. But knowing what you would be fighting was half the battle and Daphne's knowledge of what dark wizards could do had definitely been improved.

"It wasn't just about that, I mean sure, Umbridge was rubbish. But I was helping them learn how to protect themselves."

"I had an auror for a father, he taught me all I needed to know about protection." Daphne pointed out. "And more besides, a protective father and daughters isn't the best combination believe me. Although, it did come in useful when Goyle got a bit too friendly at the Yule Ball. It took him a week before he could sit down without cushions."

They continued to talk well into Daphne's lunch break, reaching the visitors entrance with a few minutes to spare. She had only ever used it once before and it was still as cramped as she remembered it. Happily though unlike most of the other phone boxes they had passed on their way, this one didn't stink. Muggle repelling charms had their uses. It wasn't that she hated or even disliked muggles, but she wasn't overly fond of standing in something which belonged in a toilet. Muggles in general, she could get along with. If she ever tried that was. Life as an unspeakable didn't demand it.

It was only when they reached the entrance to the atrium that they stopped. By rights Harry probably shouldn't even be this far in the building, but he hadn't passed the security guard who was watching them with a mixture of boredom and… no it was just boredom. In fact he wasn't even staring at them. He wasn't really staring at anything. It mustn't be a fun life, Daphne mused, but someone had to do it.

"This is as far as I can go," Harry said. "Suspension and all that."

"Right, well I'm sure I'll see you around."

"How about same time next week?" Harry asked in what he probably thought was a casual tone. _So much for the big bad auror_, Daphne thought.

"Sure," Daphne agreed. She couldn't see any reason why not and it had been nice to get out of sitting at her desk all lunch. Besides, she had enjoyed seeing muggle London. It was amazing how much she had missed. Trapped in the Wizarding World it just passed her by. It had always amazed her how muggles got by with magic, but her little trip through London had shown her they did far more than simply 'get by'.

"Okay, see you then."

"Bye," with a small wave he turned and walked away, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he did so and looking far less depressed than he had done an hour earlier. She smiled to herself as she headed back to work, glad that time turners weren't the only things she could fix.

oOo

Tracey Davis was late. But Daphne had expected it. Tracey was always late. Although if she was much longer she would be setting a new record. Daphne had already ordered their drinks and was halfway through her own when her best friend finally appeared. Tracey was still dressed in her healer robes, but that wasn't saying much, as she practically lived in them and Daphne had been expecting little else when her friend had been coming straight from work.

"Hey Daph," Tracey smiled as she took her seat opposite Daphne, attempting to flatten her wind tousled brown hair as she did so. "Sorry for being so late. I was looking after Mrs Chandler."

"What happened?"

"She burst," Daphne's natural inquisitiveness suddenly curbed, deciding she didn't need to pursue the topic, it was quite alarming. "So, how're things? It's been ages. Thanks for the drink by the way, I'll get the next lot."

"They're good, Tori's out with Draco again tonight though so I'm trying to avoid going home. Especially after last time." She shuddered. That had not been fun to come home to. The noise alone had been enough to scar her for life.

"I don't blame you. You never know they might go back to his place, Narcissa loves Tori."

"Shame the feeling isn't mutual really," Daphne mused. It would be so much easier if Astoria actually got along with her future mother-in-law, as it stood she barely tolerated her. But as Astoria loved to point out she did for Draco's sake. The pointed insult didn't escape Daphne's notice. Not that she cared. She wasn't about to start kissing up to Draco now. The temptation to kill the slimy worm would be too high. "They've got so much in common, both of them are as blind when it comes to him."

"Not really something to base a mother and daughter relationship on though."

"Well if they're round again I'm putting a silencing charm on the pair of them. I couldn't sleep last time."

"Neither could they by the sound of it," Daphne shuddered not wanting that mental picture in her head. "Too far?"

"Little bit,"

"I love being an only child." Tracey said with a laugh before she started on her drink. Daphne let it slide, knowing that when it came to anything less than serious Tracey was lacking in sympathy. "It's so much easier. Although Matthias did want to adopt me at one point so I suppose I'm sort of not. When's he back, your dad? I haven't seen him since Christmas."

"Soon, a few weeks I think. NEWT's and OWL's are in two weeks aren't they?"

"Don't ask me, I stopped keeping up with them when we left." Tracey shrugged. "Shouldn't you know?"

"He did tell me," Daphne admitted. "I've been busy."

"I heard," Tracey smirked, raising one eyebrow suggestively. "How is Potter?"

"Tori told you," it wasn't a question. She didn't need to ask. There was no one else that Tracey talked to who knew she even talked to Harry. She had wanted to tell Tracey herself, but with her work she hadn't had the chance. No doubt that Astoria had gone to Tracey the first opportunity she had gotten. To see if Tracey knew any more than she did, which wasn't much. Daphne had enjoyed the look of shock on her sister's face too much to spoil it. A momentary indulgence that had come back to bite her. Not that Daphne was surprised, Astoria had an annoying habit of turning to Tracey when Daphne would keep secrets from her.

"I'd be lying if I said she didn't," Tracey replied. "She just thought I might know why you'd started gallivanting around with him. So, what's he like? Arrogant and stupid? Strong and silent? Or are we just on the kissing and no talking stage?"

"Do you have to lower the tone? I've only met him twice." Daphne said exasperatedly. Tracey had always had her mind half in the gutter. She had been just as bad when they had been at school. Every boy Daphne had been near Tracey assumed that Daphne was trying to make him a conquest, or become one of theirs.

"That's more than enough time for some," Tracey pointed out, ignoring the fact that every relationship Daphne had ever been in, not that there were many, had never included a one night stand. There were some depths Daphne would never stoop too. "So I take it you're not eloping next week then?"

"Not even the week after. Just another one of your dreams about my love life shattered forever." Daphne said dryly. "And to answer your first question, no he isn't arrogant and stupid or any of those things. Okay, maybe a bit silent, but he's busy thinking the universe hates him at the moment. Don't get me wrong, I like him but I doubt he's what you'd expect."

"You're making him sound a lot less dreamy than the _Prophet _does these days." Tracey sighed.

"You sound disappointed," Daphne commented with an arched an eyebrow.

As far as she was aware Tracey had never had a thing for Harry. Not even a little one like most girls their age had. Growing up on stories of the 'Boy-Who-Lived' and imagining him as some knight in shining armour amazingly meant many girls fantasised about being Mrs Potter someday. Daphne had never shared such delusions, but then again, she had never really thought about boys until the Yule Ball. By that point Harry had been a Gryffindor for four years so was off limits. Not that she would have noticed him even if he'd been in another house. Harry had been a very withdrawn and shy boy.

"I am, you try having to deal with cocky healers or men who get too handsy after their potions and see how you like it. I preferred the lost but strong and silent soul desperate for new love after his heart had been broken. That's way more interesting than Doug Collins and his collection of door mats. He insisted on showing them me today, he has pictures."

"Of door mats?" Daphne asked sceptically.

"Yeah, from all over the world. He's even got one from Hungary. It cost him three galleons because of how rare it is."

"I can see why you're preferring dreamy now," Daphne said her respect for Tracey rocketing. There was no way she would be able to manage a day with people like that. Dealing with over-excited old aged men with door mat fetishes was not in her forte. Throwing something at them probably was. Even a few hours in there and she doubted she would be responsible for her actions. "Sorry to disappoint."

"I'm sure I'll be able to forgive you," Tracey grinned. "When do I get to meet him then? I'm guessing you like him and that you're not just talking to him because you're bored and I haven't been around lately."

"I do and why do you care? It's not like I'm dating him, Trace."

"He's the first person I've heard you talk about who you don't work with in ages, of course I'm meeting him. Besides, when do I get to meet a celebrity? Even when they're ill they see senior healers, I never get a look in."

"I'll ask him," Daphne sighed knowing that Tracey wouldn't give up until she got what she wanted. It felt strange, the idea of him meeting her friends and family. She wasn't even sure if she would classify them as friends yet. Sure, she liked him well enough. But friends? That was something else. "I don't know what he'll say though."

"That's all I ask," Tracey said before finishing off her drink and noticing that Daphne's was empty. "Same again?"

"If you insist."

Daphne wasn't quite sure what the time was when she got home. All her partially drunk brain managed to piece together was that it was dark, Astoria and Draco were either mercifully asleep or even better not there and that her bed was far more comfortable than she remembered it being the night before. Tracey, who was drunker than Daphne, had only managed as far as the living room sofa before falling face first into a cushion, mumbling something about how much she loved the Greengrass house before she started snoring. Daphne wasn't looking forward to the morning, the only consolation being that Tracey was going to feel rougher than her. There really was no rest for the wicked. Or was it weary? She was pretty sure it wasn't windswept.

Shaking her head she rolled over, one hand yanking at the covers. It had been a good night. Nights with Tracey usually were. With a small smile to herself she let her eyes shut. Seconds later she was asleep.


	7. Moving On

Chapter Seven: Moving On

"Alright, I'm coming, I'm bloody coming!" Harry yelled at whoever was on the other side of his front door. He had just been about to sit down for his tea when the wards in the kitchen had gone off, telling him that someone was at the front door. He knew it wasn't Hermione or Andromeda, the former was at work and in roughly an hour he would be seeing the latter anyway. So, armed with his wand and knowing deep down that it couldn't a threat as no-one but his friends knew where he lived but not wanting to take any chances, he had headed for the door.

"Hi," a voice all too familiar said when Harry opened the door. Rain plastered his hair to his scalp and the owner of the voice looked as if he had been standing on the doorstep for a few minutes. Probably working up the courage to knock. It had been the knock which had set off the wards. An awkward silence ballooned out in front of them, filled by the sound of rain, typical of a British summer. Harry had long since come to the conclusion that no matter the season somehow it was always semi-likely that the clouds would darken and the heavens would open up. It was just one of the perks the British grew used to. Constant dreariness punctuated by occasional rays of sunshine.

"Can I come in?" Ron Weasley asked, "it's a bit wet out here."

Harry shrugged and opened the door wide, letting a rain-soaked Ron in before shutting the world out again. The all too familiar hush overcame him, as it always did when he shut the door to Grimmauld Place, yet this time it was shattered as Ron mumbled a few spells to dry and warm himself up. Harry said nothing. If Ron had appeared only a few days earlier, just after his meeting with Eliza, Harry was sure he would have slammed the door in Ron's face. He hadn't wanted to talk to anyone that day. He thought he was doing quite well with stony silence, given the fact he had barely seen Ron in months.

"I'm sorry I'm here so late," Ron said when he had dried his clothes. "I know you've got to go see Teddy in a bit, but I had to come round." He waited for a moment, wondering if Harry would say something, when he didn't Ron ploughed on. "Well, it's just – I mean – Look, Harry, mate…"

He stopped again under Harry's intent listening. It was a tactic Harry used at work, as he had often discovered the best way to put people off was cling to their every word. Ron wasn't the first to fall in the face of Harry's aggressive listening. A small part of Harry enjoyed watching him squirm. The bitter part. The part that wanted to hate Ron. The part that wanted to hate everyone.

"I just wanted to say, I'm sorry, for, you know, not being here much lately. It was stupid and I get that but-"

"Save it," Harry said bluntly. Daphne had been right. There was no point clinging to something which made him miserable and Harry had missed his best friend, more than he cared to admit.

"What?" Ron asked stunned, faltering in the middle of a speech that Harry was sure he had taken hours to rehearse and prepare.

"It's fine. I get it. I hated it but I get it. She's your sister and I'm your best mate. You couldn't take sides. It's as much my fault as anyone's, I never told you why it happened or anything. So, I get it, Ron. You don't need to apologise."

"So, are we okay?" Ron asked densely clearly unprepared for Harry to take him back so readily.

"Yeah, we're okay," Harry confirmed. Ron nodded slowly as if finding it difficult to take in. But Harry's fight had never been with Ron. It had been with Ginny, for what she had done - but Ron hadn't known. Hermione had only known bits, fractions of what had happened and Harry had sworn her to secrecy. He wasn't about to badmouth Ron's sister to him. Ron's position had been impossible and Harry knew he hadn't been the only one to suffer because of it. Ginny had lost her brother too.

Harry wasn't sure how it happened, only that they went from standing in the hall to hugging and then Ron was laughing. No doubt thanks to the relief washing over him and the nerves that had built up on the doorstep. But Harry didn't care. He had his best mate back. It was a strange sensation. Part of Harry had blamed himself for the position Ron had been in, forced to choose between friends or family and ultimately choosing neither. But it was all out now. They could move on. Everyone knew what had happened.

"I wasn't meant to come today," Ron confessed when he and Harry had headed downstairs. Harry - after the initial shock of seeing Ron soaked on his doorstep and apologising - remembered about the meal he had cooked for himself. "Hermione wanted to come together. She's been working herself up about the ball, Merlin knows why but she blames herself for what happened."

"But she didn't know Ginny was going to be there," Harry said as they entered the kitchen and he took his place at the table. Ron, however, helped himself to a drink first. A habit that he seemed to have fallen back into without realising. It was a habit both men shared when they visited one another to treat the other's house as their own. Neither minded, despite how odd Hermione thought they were for doing so.

"Try telling her that,"

"I will when she comes round," Harry told him as Ron took a vacant chair at the table. "Let's face it, she'll be here as soon as she realises you've been."

"That won't be 'til tomorrow," Ron said opening his bottle of butterbeer with a wave of his wand. The bottle cap bounced down the table. "She's at work all night. Something about a Dutch bloke. Minister something or other. Anyway, they're having a big meeting tonight. After the ball she managed to convince him it'd be a good idea to settle to an agreement this week."

"Let me guess, since then she's worked at it non-stop?" Harry asked although he knew he didn't really need to.

"Yep," Ron nodded before taking a swig of butterbeer. "You know what Hermione's like, work comes first."

"Are you two alright?" Harry asked frowning slightly, he recognised the signs. He should, given the circumstances. Having gone over every scrap of time he had spent with Ginny in his head, he finally began piecing together the hints of bitterness she had thrown at him. Scornful looks, the odd snide remark that he hadn't noticed and very occasionally the odd argument. But he had put the arguments down to them just being a normal couple. Everyone argued. But it had been more than that and he hadn't seen it coming.

"Yeah, why wouldn't we be?" Ron said clearly confused. Typical Ron. Oblivious to everything.

"Because Hermione's living to work," Harry explained, "not the other way around. D'you ever actually see her these days? I know I haven't really. She pops round occasionally but she's usually just working."

"I guess not, but with the shop and everything I'm pretty busy too." Ron pointed out although his frown didn't leave his face.

"Look, mate, I'm not saying things aren't fine or anything. But this is how things started with me and Ginny. I thought everything was fine, got wrapped up in work and didn't notice she wasn't there until, well…" he trailed off, Ron knew exactly what had happened after that. "I'm just saying that maybe you guys should put each other first for a change, before it's too late."

"Thanks mate, but we both know Hermione'd never -"

"I know, just think about it alright?" Harry asked. "Eliza's made me do a fair amount lately and to be honest, Ginny probably had a good reason to get out while she could. Mind you, according to her Ginny never got past the Boy-Who-Lived either so it wasn't the only reason. I just don't want it to happen to you guys, that's all I'm saying."

"Cheers mate," Ron said clearly unsure what else to say. "How are things going with Carnell? Reckon she'll let you back soon?"

"I don't know, she doesn't really ask about auror stuff much," Harry answered when he had swallowed his mouthful of stew. "It's more about me and Ginny or the Dursley's."

"You told her about that?" Ron asked, his eyebrows shooting out of sight in surprise, hiding under his flame-red fringe.

"Yeah, most of it. It was weird, I didn't mean to, I just sort of happened. One minute we were talking about trust issues and then I was telling her about living with them. But it helped, talking about it. I guess I never really got past it." Ron was silent for a moment, seemingly too shocked by the sudden revelation to speak. "But yeah, I don't know when I'm going back yet. Though, Daphne seems to think that Davis will let me back as soon as he can."

"Daphne? Not Daphne Greengrass, the Slytherin?"

"The very same," Harry replied, unsurprised by Ron's apprehensive reaction. Despite having seen first-hand that Death Eaters could come from any house, Ron still firmly stuck to the idea that the only thing to come from Slytherin were dark wizards. It was a prejudice he had grown up around and was hard to shake off, not that he had ever had much cause to try.

"But she's a Slytherin," Ron said nonplussed. "What'd you wanna talk to a Slytherin for?"

"Was, Ron, was," Harry pointed out exasperatedly. "Doesn't make much of a difference now we're out of Hogwarts. She's actually alright. I think you'd like her."

"I'll take your word for it," Ron grimaced making it clear that he'd do no such thing.

"Don't worry she's not evil, no master plans to kill me or anything."

"How are you meant to know, that's the point of a plot. Be a pretty rubbish one if you knew all about it," Ron pointed out unable to hide his grin. Harry just shook his head and carried on eating, while Ron spun off mad theories about how Daphne Greengrass could kill him or use him in a plot to bring back Voldemort from the dead. Harry's personal favourite was his murder would facilitate the end of a blood feud but only if he was killed naked and at full moon in a brass bath. It really was good to have Ron back.

It took Harry time to adjust as the weeks rolled by. He had gone from having practically no-one for three months, barring Teddy and Andromeda and occasionally Hermione, to suddenly have his best friend back as if nothing had changed. He and Ron would meet up a few nights a week, after he got off from work and after Teddy had fallen asleep, for a few quiet drinks, usually at Ron's. Harry wasn't about to argue, he had been cooped up in Grimmauld Place for far too long. On the odd occasion Hermione would join them after work, although they were incredibly rare as there was always some diplomatic 'crisis' that needed her attention. Day or night. But it was good to have them back, even if it was only for a few hours a week. It had taken them coming back into his life for him to realise just how much he had missed them. It had been almost on a par with how much he had missed Ginny those first few weeks. But even that pain was starting to go away, thanks to Eliza.

The sessions, despite how much he had initially been against them, were actually helping. More than he cared to admit. Daphne was the first to notice the change, or at least voice her opinion. Hermione had no doubt noticed before but refrained from touching on such a delicate subject. She was the diplomat, after all. But Daphne had no such qualms.

"You seem better," Daphne said after their food had been served by a polite muggle waiter. They were sitting in a small restaurant in Oxford. The beauty of magical travel was that they could go anywhere in the country and still be back in time for her shift. Their meals - he refused to call them dates even in his mind - had become more regular, moving from once to twice a week. Every Tuesday and Friday they would meet, usually somewhere in muggle London. The location changed regularly due to Daphne's new found interest in muggle life, having never been exposed to it before seeing Harry on a regular basis.

"Tactful as ever," Harry remarked dryly. He had learned over their time together that Daphne wasn't one of those people who skirted around a point. If she had something to say she did, generally speaking. There had been times he got the feeling she had wanted to snap at him, especially when Eliza had shattered everything he had believed about his relationship with Ginny. His reaction had been a little self-indulgent and he wouldn't have blamed her for losing her temper with him. But instead she had held her tongue. It had been one of the rare occasions that she had.

"Doesn't stop me being right," Daphne pointed out with a small, cock-sure grin. "Seriously though, it's good to see you smiling."

"It does make a nice change," Harry agreed. For the first time in a long time he wasn't constantly wallowing in self-pity about Ginny. Sure there were moments, times when it all came back or something reminded him of her, of them. But it was getting less and less. It wasn't that he'd moved on, but rather he was _moving_ on. Step by step. Inch by inch. Sometimes without even realising it.

"Speaking of change," Daphne said moving the conversation swiftly away from him, as conversations about him so often did. "Tori's no longer going to be a Greengrass."

"They've set a date?"

"Not just a date, they were talking about sampling cakes when I left."

"You sound so excited," Harry commented dryly. The glare he got back was one he would remember for a long time.

"It's going to be awful. I'm going to have to smile and pretend to be happy. She better not expect me to hug him."

"I'm sure you can manage one day," Harry said trying his best to sound optimistic.

"I'll have to," Daphne moaned, stabbing a piece of chicken with more viciousness than he had been expecting.

"It won't be that bad, Tracey will be there and so will your dad. Besides, it's only one day."

"I think I preferred you when you looked on the dark side," Daphne remarked the sarcasm practically dripping from her words as she smirked at him. There was a slight pause, filled with careful thinking on her part, although Harry was enjoying his food too much to notice and was therefore blissfully unaware.

"I have to bring someone," Daphne said slowly. "A plus one. As sister of the bride there are certain things I have to do. Being seen with a date is one of them.

"How civilised, who's the lucky guy?" He looked up, their eyes met and suddenly he was aware of the real reason for the conversation being piloted towards her sister's wedding. The situation was all too familiar. He really should stop being so available. He should probably fill up his social calendar or something, maybe take up a hobby or a sport. Then he wouldn't be free to be invited to these damn things. Or perhaps a better term was emotionally blackmailed. He couldn't quite make up his mind. "Seriously?"

"Imagine his face, it would be worth it for that alone," Daphne pointed out. "Come on, all of his family are going to be there and they are really annoying."

"Not really selling this to me here, Daph," Harry countered. "Mind you, guess it isn't a surprise anyone related to Malfoy is a git."

"Aren't you technically related to him too?"

"Thanks for reminding me," Harry scowled. But it wasn't saying much, most pureblood families were related to each other somewhere along the line. James Potter was no exception to this rule.

"Pleasure, so, will you come? I can personally guarantee there will be free food."

"Fine," Harry answered a smile pulling slightly at his lips. The reference to the first time they had met had a strange sort of symmetry to it. The difference this time was that Ginny wouldn't be invited. Malfoy might have to swallow his invitation, Daphne's plus one could hardly be refused. But Ginny wouldn't stand a chance of being able to tag along on anyone's sleeve. Not that she would want to. She hated Malfoy almost as much as he did, and that was saying something.

"Tracey will be thrilled," Daphne said before taking a sip of wine. "She's been dying to meet you."

"Why?" Harry frowned.

"Because you're not an unspeakable," Daphne answered with a small shrug. "She seems to think all my friends come from work. Though, she can hardly talk, she's never out of St. Mungo's these days. Bucking for a promotion as a healer isn't easy."

"I bet, I don't know how she does it," Harry said shaking his head a little. Being Healer was something he had the utmost respect for, it was one of those jobs he knew he would never be able to do. It took a special kind of person to sit by anyone's sick bed, whether they knew them or not. For all his experience in them, Harry would never be able to stand the other side of the curtain. He had seen enough wounded at the battle of Hogwarts for a lifetime.

"She's always wanted to do it, ever since we were kids. Merlin only knows why."

"Got to give it her for doing it though,"

"I know I couldn't," Daphne confessed her face going serious for a moment. But then it was as if the shutters came down, locking away the memory that caused her eyes to go dark. She looked up at him, forcing a smile that went nowhere near meeting her eyes.

"How long have we got?" Daphne asked shifting the conversation away from healers with the subtlety of a rampaging Hippogriff. Harry didn't question it. If she had wanted to tell him she would, if not, then it wasn't any of his business. Wanting privacy was something he could respect. It would be more than a bit hypocritical if he didn't.

Harry glanced at his watch, "Not long," he answered. That was the one problem with going to a restaurant for lunch, sometimes serving took time they didn't really have.

"Go when I finish this?" Daphne asked noting his practically empty plate.

"Sure," Harry agreed.

A few minutes later and they were back in London, standing outside the visitor's entrance. There was no way to apparate into the Ministry these days, not unless the caster fancied either being splinched or sent massively off course by a few hundred miles. Ernest Pendergast, ironically the head of the Department of Magical Transportation, had forgotten this particular fact and ended up somewhere in Aberdeen. In the fright he'd dropped his wand, which was then summarily run over as it had rolled away from him and onto the busy road in the town centre. It had taken him three days, a snow plough, a helpful muggle named Pam and a joyriding cocker spaniel called Colin before Ernie had gotten home.

"Guess I'll see you next week then," Harry said as Daphne stepped into the phone booth. They had stopped heading to the Ministry together ever since a 'friend' of Rita Skeeter's had seen them together. It had taken a few galleons to make Rita's 'friend' forget that she had seen Daphne and Harry together. They had both decided it wasn't worth the risk. Neither of them much fancied being the front page story of _Witch Weekly_.

"Sure, meet me in Diagon Alley at twelve?" At his arched eyebrow Daphne said, "Well, we've got to get you measured for robes sometime, haven't we?"

She flashed him a quick slightly forced grin and a wave before he had chance to retort and shut the door. A moment later there was slight juddering and the inside of the phone box slowly descended out of sight with Daphne inside. Harry just shook his head and walked away, heading for the newsagents on the corner. It was a habit had grown into after having lunch with Daphne to get a copy of _The Times_ before having a slow walk back to Grimmauld Place. Although, sometimes the walk was rained off but that day the sun was mercifully out and he was going to enjoy it while he could.

The rest of Harry's day passed all too quickly, his evening with Teddy went by in a blur until he found himself sat with his sleeping godson. Moonlight drifted in through the window, all of the other light in the room had long since been extinguished. Teddy lay beside Harry, fast asleep, his hair slowly and rhythmically shifting between colours in time with his breathing. It wasn't something that happened very often, but sometimes as dreams claimed him, Teddy's untrained abilities would kick in. He still had a lot of learning to do.

There was a gentle knock at the door, he turned to see Andromeda smiling fondly at the pair of them. Slowly Harry got to his feet, careful not to make a noise that would cause Teddy to stir as he headed out the door.

"Thought I'd better come and get you," she whispered as Harry gently shut the door. "Before you stayed in there all night."

"It would be easy to do," Harry admitted as they snuck down the stairs.

"For you, maybe," Andromeda said her voice going back to normal when they entered the living room. She paused before speaking again, setting herself down on the sofa an air of seriousness coming over her as her flicked to the picture of her daughter on the mantelpiece. She looked younger than Harry had ever seen her, but it was undeniably Tonks. The heart shaped face gave it away, even though everything else was different.

"Thank you, Harry. For everything. I know it's not always been easy for you to find the time to come up here. But we both appreciate it."

"It's okay, I don't mind." Harry said quickly before she could add anything else. She hadn't taken the idea that Teddy was somehow to blame for Harry's engagement falling apart well. It had only been a throw-away line in one of the articles circulated after the ball but it had stayed with her. No matter how much Harry tried to tell her otherwise. If anything had been eating into his time it was the aurors. Not Teddy. An hour or two every night was nothing compared to the time he had dedicated to work. It wasn't the only problem they had had. But it was the one he was the most to blame for. He could have spent less time there, but he hadn't and there was no going back.

"I want to be here," Harry assured her.

She smiled, a mixture of sadness and warmth radiating from her. It was times like these that he found it hard to see how he had ever mistaken her for Bellatrix. Not that anyone could make that mistake anymore. Andromeda didn't look like a skeleton, after all.

"Did I tell you, I'm going to Malfoy's wedding?" Harry asked, forcing the conversation down a route that was less awkward for everyone involved. Thinking about Tonks and Lupin even after all these years was a sore topic for them both, one that he didn't like to dwell on. "Daphne insisted."

"Two months and already you're chaperoning her," Andromeda smiled. He had been wrong. This wasn't a topic that made him feel any less awkward. Damn. "Can we expect a happy announcement soon?"

"We're just friends. Besides, I went with Hermione to that stupid ball, it's the same thing."

"Hermione has Ron."

"So?"

"It is different, whether you see it or not. Just, do me a favour? Be careful." Harry could practically feel the phrase 'after last time' hanging over the conversation like petulant raincloud eager to open up and drench him.

"When am I not?" He asked, knowing that any continued protestations would be shot down. Andromeda, once she got hold of an idea, wasn't exceptionally good of letting it go. A fact that probably explained why she had gone and married Ted Tonks instead of letting her parents talk her out of it. This time though, she was wrong. Not that she would realise it, of course.

"Do you want the full list or just highlights?"

"I'm good for either, thanks." Harry said glancing at his watch. It didn't make fun reading. He sighed, getting to his feet, noticing the dull ache in his neck and back. Sitting in an uncomfortable chair all night really wasn't a good idea. "I'd better go, it's getting late and -"

But before he could finish a knock at the door, hesitant at first. Then the knocker stopped before trying again, this time harder as if somehow they had worked up the courage to carry on. Harry waved a hand at Andromeda who had started to get to her feet before heading to the door glanced at him, frowning slightly. Who would be visiting at this time of night? Slowly and almost without realising it he pulled out his wand, realising as he did so that this was probably how Mad-Eye started down his path of paranoia.But at the same time he wasn't about to let his guard down, he'd seen what happened to too many people if you did.

"Sorry to come round so late I just…" a voice started as he opened the door. But as soon as the moonlight hit his face it came to a sudden, awkward halt. So did he. They both stared. He felt his wand against his leg, he hadn't even realised he'd lowered it. The confusion he had been feeling moments earlier was rapidly being overtaken with a mixture of anger and surprise. Anger though was starting to outstrip surprise the longer he stared. "Hi."

"What do you want?" he demanded, stepping outside the door and closing it before Andromeda came to investigate. Why, when he was starting to get his life back on track did she have to turn up? Again. Why? The hand that had gone limp was slowly curling. He could feel his fingernails digging into his skin. It took all he had to restrain his voice from rising, to let the anger bubble out.

"To see you," Ginny Weasley said quietly, "Sorry. I know you don't want to see me or anything."

"Too right." He didn't bother to hide the venom in his voice. He was too tired of the past being racked up to observe niceties. Besides, he had done more than enough for her by letting the public go on believing her fairy tale.

"But I had to come, I've meaning to for a while, it was just… hard."

"I bet it was awful," Harry muttered, just about keeping hold of his voice. Before he would bottle all this in, let it implode inside him, but that wasn't the case anymore. He was sick of being the martyr. Following the stupid mentality that speaking out meant that they won had gotten him nowhere, well he was damned if he was going stay stuck forever. Sure, he was probably being petulant and childish, but being repressed and 'adult' had hardly done him any favours.

"Just shut up a minute, would you? I'm trying to say -"

"What? That it's all my fault? Save it. You made it pretty clear last time and you know what? I'm not perfect, I screwed up, but you don't have the right to -"

"I'm sorry!" she yelled, cutting across his tirade before he could get any further. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Harry asked sceptically. He stared at her, his brain taking a little while to catch up with what he had heard. All the pain, the heartbreak, everything, it had twisted how he saw her. Every time he thought about Ginny the worse it got, the more she just became selfish and stupid, the kid that had never grown out of her childhood fantasy and torn his life down with it. He knew he'd made mistakes too, he'd accepted that, but that didn't take away from the fact she wasn't free of guilt either.

"Yes, I'm sorry. I am sorry, okay? For everything. For us, for me, for not being understanding, for not talking about it with you, for pretending everything was okay. All of it. I didn't want it to get out of hand, Harry, I didn't. I just wanted you to pay attention, I know it's stupid, I know all that. I didn't want it to be like this. But I can't change that. So, I'm just here to say I'm sorry, Harry. I really am."

"Why?" he managed through gritted teeth, his mind racing as it absorbed the new information. "Why now?"

"It's better than if I don't," she answered. "I don't expect you to forgive me or for us to get back or anything. I just need you to know I'm sorry. For you," she paused, her eyes moving from his face to the ground, the confidence that had allowed her words to come tumbling out seeming to fade, "and for me. We need to move on, Harry."

"Kind of hard to do that when it's the papers every day," Harry retorted. Amazingly this wasn't a lie, even though it was weeks after their little fight in public the _Prophet_ would still run the occasional article, his absence in the Wizarding World causing continued speculation. "Although, you'd know all about that, you're the one that gave them everything."

"I didn't -"

"They quoted you!" he roared.

"I didn't know they were listening!" Ginny told him quickly, her eyes meeting his now. "Really, Harry, I didn't. I was telling Luna about everything that happened and someone must have overheard us or something. I didn't want that, but when it happened, maybe I could have done something. I don't know."

"But you didn't. You didn't do anything, you just let them carry on destroying my life!" Harry yelled losing track of where he was, forgetting that in the house behind him was his sleeping godson and his grandmother who treated Harry like the only family she had left. All Harry could see in that moment was Ginny and how everything she had torn had ruined him. He knew that he was partly to blame, he understood that, but it had been Ginny who had crossed the line. Ginny who hadn't come out and corrected and of the stories which, in his mind, was almost as bad as going to the press in the first place.

"No. I didn't. I was selfish, hurt, I don't know. Part of me just wanted you to feel like I did." There were unshed tears in her eyes. But, typical Ginny, she wasn't letting them fall. Growing up with six brothers tended to put you off showing weakness to anyone.

"Well you did a great job there," Harry snapped bitterly, "Look, Ginny, no offense but sorry isn't enough. Not for this. I mean, sure, we both made mistakes, I get that. I should've been there more, seen what was going on and given you more time. But what you did, what I saw… I can't forgive you for that. Not now. Not in a few weeks. Not ever. You ruined my life, whether you went to the papers or not you still let everyone believe I was some kind of violent nutter."

"Harry I was just -"

"What? Upset? Lonely? There are some things you don't do to people you supposedly love or care about. Cheating on me and for the bloody world to see, that is one of them! So you want to move on? Fine! So do I!"

There was a long moment of silence. A single, solitary tear trickled down Ginny's cheek as she stared at him. Harry knew why, he hadn't held back and hadn't minced his words because once he had loved her. He'd let her know just how she had made him feel. The blame wasn't all hers, but from where he was standing she was more accountable.

"Harry?" Andromeda said from the doorway. Harry whirled around, he hadn't even heard her open it. "What's going on? I thought I heard -" Then her eyes looked past him, saw Ginny and narrowed. "What is _she _doing here?"

"Leaving," Harry answered bitterly, turning back to Ginny. "Go on, get out."

"Harry -"

"Get out!" Harry roared his anger bursting from under the surface once more. Something hot hit his leg. He looked down to see that sparks had been shot from his wand, which was still clutched in his hand but forgotten until then. It must have reacted to his fit of temper. When he looked up again all he saw was Ginny's retreating back as she walked away.

"Good riddance," Andromeda said, "come inside, Harry, I'll make you some tea. I won't have you apparating in this state."

"I'm fine!" Harry snapped with more venom than he'd intended. "Sorry," he said quickly, as soon as his brain had caught up with what he'd done. "But really I'm fine."

"No, you're not," Andromeda said flatly.

Harry just sighed knowing that Andromeda was right and there was no chance in hell that he would be able to convince her otherwise. Shoulders slumped with resignation he followed her back into the house. The anger was slowly fading being replaced with a sense of inexplicable guilt for the pain he knew his words had caused Ginny and relief. It was a strange combination and one he hadn't been expecting. The relief he could understand. She was finally out of his life. He could move on. But the guilt, that something which was wholly unexpected. But should he really be that surprised? He still had some feelings for her. It wasn't something he could just shut off and walk away from. Not easily anyway.


	8. A Fresh Perspective

Chapter Eight: A Fresh Perspective

Daphne sat in her living room, curled up on the sofa with a book on her lap. Next to her, set on the dark wooden table, was a glass of wine that she had reclaimed from the batch bought for the wedding. It was a bit too sweet for her tastes but it was expensive, rare and would no doubt annoy any of the Malfoys when they noticed it missing. The small things in life were sometimes truly worth living for. If she was going to have to put up meetings to debate over dresses, seating arrangements and other mundane topics that made her brain stagnate, she was going to win little victories where she could.

"What are you reading?" Her father asked from the doorway. He was wearing a thick, grey jumper and blacks slacks, his feet clad in red slippers. When she had been younger he had told her that was the reason he had retired from the aurors, slippers. Apparently men who wear slippers shouldn't be running around in the rain after criminals. Although, he later conceded, men who wore slippers shouldn't be up to any kind of running. Sitting was far more their speed. Of course, she now knew the real reason he had left, but it still made her smile to imagine how his boss would have taken slipper wearing as reason for retirement.

"_Tangle in Time_," she answered, slipping in a bookmark and letting the book fall shut. They hadn't really had chance to talk since her father had gotten back a few days ago. The wedding had taken over their lives. Joy. Daphne decided she had done well not to curse either of the Malfoys. Narcissa had been as annoying as she remembered, not that Daphne had wanted reminding. "Tracey said I'd like it."

"And?"

"I've read worse," Daphne shrugged. "I think she was just hoping I'd pick fault with the theory behind it."

"My daughter the unspeakable." Her father said with a grin, walking into the room and joining her on the sofa. "How is Tracey, by the way? She still dating the strange one with the ridiculous hair? You know, the one who looked like a porcupine had got lost and settled on his head."

"Ben," Daphne sighed, rolling her eyes. "And no. He wouldn't meet her parents, said they weren't in that kind of a relationship, so she jinxed him."

"She was always such a gentle soul," her father remarked. "What about you? Any romances I should know about?"

"Not a one," Daphne told him with a shrug. It was the same answer she gave every time.

"I can see why Astoria is the one getting married." Her father said, a gentle smile on his face. Daphne had never been over-furnished in the boyfriend department. It wasn't something she was overly bothered by and was probably something she'd get around to, eventually. But her father always liked to try and push her towards boys or men. He'd even tried to set up a date with a son of a friend of his from work. That hadn't ended well, primarily because Daphne hadn't shown up.

"To Malfoy," Daphne pointed out. It was something that no matter how hard she tried she could not get over, not that she tried that hard very often. There were occasional bursts, often prompted by guilt that she felt on Astoria's behalf.

"Still getting married, Daph. More than that she's happy."

"But he's a total git," Daphne objected.

"Sometimes people only see what they want to see."

"Well, when it comes to Malfoy, Tori is blind."

"I was talking about you." Her father told her. That stopped her. She frowned, staring at her father. "You're a very stubborn person, Merlin knows where you get it, but you took against him from the start. People change, Daph, they really do. You should give him a chance. If not for me then do it for your sister, she's happy with him, she really is. I don't see the attraction myself, and to be honest I'd be worried if I did. But surely her happiness is what's important?"

"I hate it when you're right." Daphne muttered sullenly. She didn't like being sullen, it felt childish and stupid, but that was exactly where her hatred for Draco stemmed. Childhood. There were some prejudices informed by memories long since forgotten, that were hard to break, particularly when that was all she could see. Draco the idiot, the Death Eater and the coward.

"Well, I am the father figure," her dad said with a grin. "I'm not saying he's perfect, I'm just saying you might want to try again. A clean slate. Better than being stuck with someone you hate as a brother-in-law."

"That what you told yourself?"

"Partly," her father admitted. "But there's more than that. Did I ever tell you about when he came to see me at Hogwarts?" Daphne shook her head, intrigued. "When things were really getting serious between them, he asked me for my permission. Came to office and everything. Which would have been a nice surprise but I was teaching at the time and didn't go back until after dinner. I was avoiding some third-year essays."

"He was still there?"

"He waited three hours." Her father told her. "Even said that he wouldn't marry Tori if that's what I wanted. You know what, I think he would've ignored me and they would have eloped somewhere. I only had to look at him to see that he loved her, he was practically begging at one point for me to let them get married."

"One point?"

"I let him go on for a bit," her father shrugged. "It was nice to be called sir by someone who isn't shorter than me." He grinned and she threw a cushion at him as he laughed at his own joke. "I didn't. If anything I kept trying to shut him up, he wouldn't stop telling me how great she is and why he wanted to marry her."

"Unlike him," Daphne remarked spitefully, "usually he doesn't shut up about how great he is."

"My point is," her father said, ignoring her jibe, "that he clearly loves her and they're happy together. He's not going anywhere, Daph but he's what your sister wants. Surely it's a least worth trying to tolerate him?"

"Since when were you so wise?"

"I have my moments," her father shrugged, leaning across her to steal the wine she had been happily drinking by herself. "Just think about it. You and Astoria have always been so close and I'd hate see this ruin it."

"I'll think about it, no promises, though." He had a point. For all his posturing and self-righteous arrogance and seemingly limitless supply of hair products, Draco did love her sister. Despite all the girls he had happily tossed aside, or the money he had thought he might inherit with some, he had chosen Astoria. She wasn't first-in-line and she had no title. This wasn't some kind of political, point scoring marriage. He genuinely loved her. Something she hadn't been quite able to see past the lack of a user-friendly personality and knowledge of what he had done to girls in the past. Pansy had been heartbroken after Hogwarts.

"Excellent." Her father grinned, losing the serious look from his face. He was far happier since he had stopped being an auror. Teaching suited him. A surprise that had shocked everyone but Daphne and Astoria who knew the man behind the uniform.

They talked for another hour or so, Daphne enjoying her father's company. It was a rare treat to have someone else in the house, with Astoria so often at Draco's. Either that or she bought him home which classified Astoria as unavailable in Daphne's eyes. Luckily for her, though, she was comfortable with her own thoughts for company. But she still enjoyed talking to her father while she had the chance.

oOo

"Good morning, sister of mine," Daphne said in greeting the next morning when Astoria eventually made her way to the kitchen. Unlike Daphne, Astoria was a heavy sleeper with a habit for missing most of her mornings. Still dressed in her bed clothes which were covered by a deep blue dressing gown, Astoria did not look her best to say the least. It didn't take a genius to realise that she had only just left her room.

"Tea?" Daphne offered from her position at the kitchen counter. She had just made a cup of her own but there was still plenty of water left over.

"Thanks," Astoria yawned running a hand through her hair as she took a seat. "Is Narcissa here yet?"

"Dad took her into the dining room, they were discussing seating arrangements when I left," Daphne said as she set about making her sister a cup of tea. Astoria grimaced at the revelation her future mother-in-law had arrived. "You should have seen her face when she found out who I'm bringing."

"You actually got a date?"

"You sound surprised, I'm offended," Daphne smirked as she poured plenty of milk into Astoria's tea. "For your information, yes, I have a date."

"Who? Graham?"

"Graham is married and has two kids," Daphne said. Graham Bluebell was an Unspeakable but certainly not Daphne's type. He was fifty for one thing. But was one of the few people Daphne mentioned to her sister, and as such, was high on Astoria's list for Daphne's potential wedding dates. "So, no, it's not Graham. It's Harry, I asked him last week, didn't I say?"

"You're inviting Harry Potter to my wedding?" Astoria asked stunned. Her mouth hung open, a rather uncivilised look for a supposed 'lady'. Although, that title technically fell to Daphne but nobody would be able to tell. Ladies of noble houses weren't generally unspeakables. But Daphne made a point of not being what people expected. Astoria, however, liked living off her trust fund and as such was often confused as the Lady of Greengrass Manor.

"You said invite anyone I wanted," Daphne said as she carried over her sister's tea. "It won't be a problem. Aren't they on civil terms now anyway?"

It was a loaded question, which Daphne already knew the answer to. She had been gauging Harry's response to her invitation with a few questions about his relationship with the Malfoy's ever since the end of the war over the course of their last few meals together. Daphne was many things and thorough was definitely one of them. There wasn't a chance she would have asked Harry if she had suspected he would say no. Finding out if he could tolerate being in the same room as Draco for a few hours was a significant factor.

"Sort of," Astoria admitted.

"There you are then, no problem, besides I'll keep them out of each other's hair. Don't worry."

"Hang on, does that mean you're seeing him then?" Astoria asked suddenly, grinning happily at the prospect of her sister finding love as she had. Daphne rolled her eyes. "I mean you never bring anyone to these things, ever. And you've been seeing him a lot lately."

"No, I'm not. Honestly you're as bad as Tracey," Daphne said exasperatedly. "Am I not allowed to have male friends?"

The real reason Daphne had suddenly developed a new found interest for male company at family events was the fact that it wasn't just going to be her family attending. Daphne could deal with them, just. But add Malfoy's family into the mix and there was no way in hell she was going alone. Tracey would be preoccupied with whoever she bought as a date, it changed every time due to the fact that healer was a profession that put strain on any relationship. Meanwhile Daphne's father would be catching up with the family, remembering why they only ever saw each other at special occasions. Either that or focusing on Astoria, which would have left Daphne alone surrounded by a family she didn't especially get on with for hours. Inviting Harry solved that particular problem. It helped that he would infuriate most of the people there by existing, but that was just a happy by-product.

"You can invite people but you never do, Daph," Astoria pointed out with a smirk, "How'd Narcissa take the news anyway?"

"She went all quiet and her face started twitching," Daphne said as she sat down opposite her sister. Sun bathed her neck through the huge bay window behind her. It was looking like it was going to be a nice day, which was good news for Daphne. It meant she could hide out in the garden away from talk of the wedding.

"Not too bad then," Astoria replied sipping at her tea. "What's he like, Potter?"

"He isn't what I expected," Daphne answered honestly. Although, she doubted if anyone who had never really known Potter except through stories would know what to expect. But she liked the man she had come to know. He might be slightly jaded and cynical as well as occasionally self-obsessed, usually when he was brooding over Weasley. But he was also kind, loyal and he had never once been judgmental. Everyone she ever met heard her name and conjured up a picture, but Harry had simply treated her like anyone else, a courtesy she had been more than happy to extend to him.

"Good unexpected or bad unexpected?" Astoria asked curiously.

"I wouldn't still be talking to him if it was bad," Daphne remarked. "You'll just have to wait and see. It's only a few weeks."

"Spoilsport."

"Ah, there you are," a familiar and highly dislikeable voice said from the doorway. Standing there dressed in needlessly well-tailored robes was Draco Malfoy. Daphne had to bite back a jibe, remembering her conversation with her father the night before. It was for Astoria's sake. Besides, she had to see something in him. Somewhere. Deep down. This was going to be harder than she thought.

Astoria smiled, leapt to her feet almost knocking over her tea in the process, and greeted Draco with a tight hug and a quick kiss. At this point Daphne would usually roll her eyes or stare resolutely at the something more interesting like a fly or piece of wall. But this time she actually paid attention to Draco's reaction. A smile spread across the face that usually only ever glared at Daphne. It was as plain as day that he genuinely cared about Astoria, even from Daphne's biased view point. There was a warmth in eyes she had never noticed before.

"Mother wants us to look over a few details of the seating arrangements," Draco said when Astoria's arms had dropped back to her sides. "Matthias thought you might still be asleep."

"Just got up," Astoria answered, "do you want some tea?"

"If you wouldn't mind," Draco said with a small, grateful smile.

Astoria was just about to get up when Daphne, despite her better judgment, waved her down getting to her feet herself and heading to the teapot on the kitchen counter. Daphne didn't miss the quick glance Draco shot her little sister, who for her part looked as confused as he did. There was an awkward silence as Daphne prepared Draco's tea, which was hardly surprising. Daphne had made no secret of her feelings. Still, the look of suspicion Draco gave the cup she passed him made Daphne smirk a little.

"Don't worry, Draco," Daphne assured him with only a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "If I was going to poison you, do you really think I would be so obvious?"

Suspicion was replaced with a flush of embarrassment. In the old days it would also have been accompanied with him running his mouth off, ranting about how his father was going to hear about it or something equally self-absorbed and annoying. But instead he simply accepted the cup and nodded tightly, clearly unsure how to accept the gesture. There was a slight nod and a quick glance at Astoria, who shrugged while unable to keep the smile off her face. By Draco's standards the nod was the closest thing Daphne had ever got to a 'thank you'. Maybe there really was hope for him yet.

"I'll let mother know you'll be with us soon," Draco said breaking the awkward silence. With that he quickly left the room unable to deal with the unanticipated consideration. Daphne just shook her head smirking. There was clearly a reason he had never been sorted into Gryffindor. Even Longbottom had more bottle.

"Are you feeling alright?" Astoria asked when Draco was out of earshot. The grin spread across Astoria's face was almost as wide as any Daphne had seen from her sister. "I mean, what was that about? You don't even make Tracey tea when she comes round."

"Tracey doesn't like tea."

"You know what I mean," Astoria said impatiently.

"I had a chat with dad last night, he made me think about a few things. One being that it might about time that I try again with him."

"He has a name," Astoria sighed. "But thanks, Daph. I know you're not his biggest fan," Daphne snorted with derision, receiving an exasperated glower from Astoria. "I'm just saying, I get that that was probably tough for you. I don't expect you to be best friends with him or anything, but I'm glad you're trying."

"You're my sister, Tori, I'm not going to stand in the way of what you want. I'll never understand why you love him and to be honest I'm not even going to try. He is the single most annoying, selfish and obnoxious person I have ever met." That particular description got a frown from Astoria, who opened her mouth to object but was silenced in a moment by a look from her older sister. "But that was a long time ago. Dad pointed out that people change, so I'm going to give him a chance."

"Look at you being all grown-up," Astoria commented dryly.

"It comes with the territory," Daphne told her sister, "I am older. Now, haven't you got somewhere to be?"

"Why do you have to remind me?" Astoria groaned sending a mock glower at her sister.

"She'll just come looking for you," Daphne pointed out, remembering the last time that Astoria had dragged out seeing her soon to be mother-in-law. It hadn't ended well for Astoria who had been hiding out in Daphne's room so as she could put off seeing Narcissa for just another few minutes. The impatient Mrs Malfoy had, instead of waiting downstairs with a scathing remark as Astoria had expected, searched the house for the younger Greengrass. The meal they had been on their way to had, according to Astoria, been the worst one of her life.

"Fine, I'm going to get dressed properly first though," Astoria sighed before finishing off her tea.

"Have fun," Daphne smirked, "say hi for me."

Astoria, whose mood had clearly taken a downward spiral, ignored the remark as she sulkily headed towards the stairs. Daphne, who didn't have to suffer the only one of Draco's parents who wasn't in jail, took out her wand and sent all of the used cups, saucers and cutlery towards the kitchen counter. Any signs that they had been used were then removed by a couple of quick cleaning spells before Daphne magically put them back in the appropriate cupboards, all from the comfort of the dining table. It wasn't exactly hard magic, but learning to do it all at once and without really looking had taken a lot of practice. But Daphne was nothing if not persistent.

There were, however, some things that no amount of magic could help her with. For instance, providing her sister with the breakfast she needed without walking into a room with too many Malfoys inside. But there was more than one way to skin a kneazle.

"Tisly," Daphne said. A moment later there was a loud crack and a small house-elf appeared in front of Daphne. Tisly smiled up at her mistress eagerly. She didn't get much work these days, what with Daphne's father always at Hogwarts and Astoria practically living at Draco's some weeks. It didn't help that Daphne worked long shifts and enjoyed more than the occasional meal out.

"You is calling Mistress?" Tisly asked excitedly.

"Could you take some food to my father please, Tisly? Muffins, sandwiches, that kind of thing?" Daphne asked politely. Unlike a few other families she could mention, Daphne had never been raised to treat her house-elf as scum. Just because Tisly worked for her family did not mean that Daphne was about to boss her around or force the helpful elf to punish herself. "Astoria forgot her breakfast and I'm sure our guests would appreciate a few snacks."

"Of course, Mistress, Tisly will being so right away!" The tiny elf quickly hurried around the kitchen, collected the assorted food before vanishing into thin air carrying a silver tray. Had Daphne actually liked her 'guests' then she would have taken the food herself. As it was the only reason Daphne had sent Tisly was because Astoria would need all the help she could get to manage a morning of wedding planning run by Narcissa Malfoy. A few snacks would go a long way.

Daphne spent the rest of the day enjoying her day off by sitting out in the garden with her book, a few glasses of cool orange juice and the occasional company of Astoria when the wedding planning got too much. Hiding from the planning was understandable in Daphne's eyes. The Malfoy matriarch was going through the event with a fine-toothed comb, trying to get opinions from her son and Astoria on everything from napkins and the cake to music and flowers. It was mind-numbing just hearing about it.

"Remind me again why you're willing to go through all this?" Daphne asked her sister on her third visit out to the garden. The sun was edging closer and closer towards the horizon. Soon, Daphne knew, she would have to return inside. But while she could still hide outside she was going to. Maybe, if she waited long enough, she could avoid seeing Narcissa completely.

"Because it's what we want," Astoria replied tiredly massaging her the bridge of her nose as she did so. "I just wish it didn't involve all of this. But it'll be worth it in the end."

"If you say so," Daphne said sceptically. Despite being thorough, logical and meticulous when it came to her work and a few other things besides, Daphne would not want the stress of having to organise such a large scale event. Although, she doubted that any wedding she would be involved in would be 'large-scale'. She didn't have enough people she would want to invite for one thing. A wedding was something personal, special. The people who Daphne invited would be the few people she wanted to share something like that with. The list wasn't long. But she doubted anybody's list would be if they actually bothered to whittle it down rather than just invite any family and friends they could lay their hands on.

"I'd better get back soon, before she notices I'm gone too long."

Daphne waved her sister goodbye before picking up her book and beginning to read again. However, it was only a matter of minutes before her silence was interrupted again. Sighing at the sound of footsteps Daphne saved her place, set down her book and turned. But instead of seeing Astoria, who Daphne had guessed had forgotten something or decided to postpone going back into the Drawing Room for a few moments longer, her eyes fell upon Draco Malfoy.

"What do you want?" Daphne asked with only a hint of dislike. It was a step up from her usual scathing tone.

"To talk," Draco said simply taking the seat that Astoria had just vacated. There was a moment of silence where Daphne continued to look at Draco, not bothering break the ice for him. While she was willing to give him a chance he was going to have to work for it. She wasn't utterly convinced that he had changed. To Daphne the man before her was as equally obsessed with money and status as he had always been.

"Earlier, you made me tea. Why?"

"A peace offering," Daphne answered honestly, resisting the temptation to reply with sarcasm. It was about time he knew. Their little game had gone on long enough. Daphne's father had been right, there was no point ruining her relationship with Astoria just because she hated Draco and everything people like him stood for. Astoria loved him. That wasn't going to change, no matter Daphne wanted it to.

"A peace offering?"

"Yes," Daphne nodded. "You and I both love my sister. I think it's time we got over ourselves. I'm certainly not going anywhere and apparently neither are you."

"You're right," Draco agreed, "I do love her."

"I know, that's why I said it," Daphne countered impatiently. It was difficult, trying not to be annoyed by someone who she had held such strong feelings against for so long. "Look, I'm never going to be your friend. But for Tori's sake, I'm not going to be your enemy either. There is, however, one condition to this little truce. You promise me that you will never hurt her."

"I promise," Draco answered almost immediately as if in his mind it wasn't even up for debate.

"Are you sure, Draco? Because if I ever find out that you've broken your promise Azkaban will be the least of your worries." She didn't raise her voice, if anything she let it go deathly quiet, fixing her eyes on Draco. "Do I make myself clear?"

What colour the pale man's face usually held vanished under Daphne's icy gaze. But his eyes never moved from hers. In that moment she barely recognised him. Gone was the coward who had hidden behind Crabbe and Goyle. Looking back at her wasn't a bully using the marriage for a power play or money or status. Instead, she was staring into the eyes of a man, while far from perfect, who loved her sister. If he didn't, if he really hadn't changed, Daphne knew he would have run by now and fled the threat that was all too real.

"Yes," Draco said eventually. "I love Astoria, I would never hurt her."

Daphne nodded simply. It was all she needed to do, because that was all she needed to hear. Draco truly did love Astoria and that was good enough for Daphne. While she might never see the attraction, Daphne could not stand in the way anymore. Maybe people really did change. It was an interesting question and one she had always dismissed. People were who they were, deep down they would never change. But perhaps, that wasn't the case for everyone. Maybe there were a few who really could change. Faced with the facts in front of her she had to admit it was a possibility, because the Draco Malfoy she knew would never have married for love.

Draco didn't say anything else, but he didn't really need to. He had gotten what he needed to off his chest and had his questions answered, so when the silence descended upon them once more he didn't stay around long to enjoy it. Given what he had to get back to Daphne was mildly surprised. She would take awkward, stony silence over being trapped in a room with Narcissa Malfoy and the meticulous planning of a wedding. Although, Draco was related to her so he did have some duties. Daphne was not looking forward to the day that she was required to do her part for the newly formed committee that had formed in her Dining Room. But that day wouldn't be for a couple of weeks. They had all the other pointless decisions to get through before they started looking at bridesmaids dress robes.


	9. A Vow For Life

Chapter Nine: A Vow for Life

Sunlight filtered through the many high and ornate windows of Greengrass manor as Daphne was making her final preparations for the day they had all been waiting for. Finally, after weeks and weeks of planning, complaining, arguing, and on one occasion crying from Astoria, the day had arrived. A few guests had already arrived the night before. Daphne's Aunt Heather and Uncle Thomas, who were of an age where they found magical transportation too uncomfortable, had asked to be housed in one of the many guest rooms after a long journey from Sussex by train. Narcissa had also stayed the night, unable to keep her interfering nose out of everyone's business so close to her son's wedding.

But everything was running smoothly, as far as Daphne could tell because Astoria hadn't come running to her room in a fit of panic. If anything, Daphne's morning had been rather calm. The only visitor she had had was Tracey, who had arrived early more out of a body clock that was wired for early morning than anything else. But the company had been appreciated until Tracey had been whisked away by Astoria, no doubt to be used as a shield against Narcissa. Daphne had long since given up the role. While she may well be being civil to Draco out of respect for her sister, Narcissa was a completely separate problem and one which Daphne struggled to deal with. The only reason Astoria never complained about how rude Daphne was to Mrs Malfoy was because Astoria wanted to say all the things her older sister did but couldn't.

"Daph? You ready?" Tracey called from outside the door before entering. Unlike whenever Daphne usually saw her friend today she did not look worn out and had actually applied make-up and spent time on her hair. Usually Tracey let her hair fall where it liked around her shoulders, but for the special occasion she had pulled it up into an elegant bun. The result was astounding. It really was a marvel that there wasn't a Mr Davis, although technically she would take the man's name but that was a detail that Daphne merely overlooked when she asked about the current 'Mr Davis' in her best friend's life. The quest for romance was one which was severely hampered by the long hours demanded by St. Mungo's.

"Almost," Daphne answered checking her reflection in the mirror as her friend took a place behind her. Both women were dressed in the same silvery dresses. All the bridesmaids had had their outfits selected for them, a decision which had fallen to Daphne, who had in turn consulted each woman and asked for a preference. It had taken more time than she had wanted but eventually they had managed to agree.

"Well you'd better hurry up, Prince Charming is here," Tracey said smirking at Daphne through the mirror.

"Are you ever going to give it up? I'm not dating him, Trace, he's here as a friend."

Jokes and comments about Daphne's growing friendship with Harry had only blossomed once Tracey had discovered he was her 'date' to the wedding. Astoria had only waited a few days to let that snippet of information out and ever since both Daphne's sister and best friend had joined forces to convince Daphne that she and Harry were star-crossed lovers or something stupid. It was an absolute nightmare. Couldn't she just have a male friend? Wasn't that allowed?

"A very dashing looking one at that, you'd better hurry up Daph or I might take him for myself." Tracey grinned under Daphne's exasperated gaze. "Seriously though, come on, he's waiting downstairs for you."

With a final glance at her reflection and deciding it would have to do, Daphne let Tracey drag her out of her room and downstairs. Harry wasn't the only person waiting there. With only an hour or so to go before the ceremony both families had started to flood the manor. Daphne had never seen her home so full, she was glad she had had the good sense to cast a quick locking charm on her door before being led away. Magic made having her privacy invaded a little less annoying, but it still made Daphne's skin crawl to see so many people in her private space. But, she reminded herself forcefully, it was her sister's house too and this was Astoria's day.

The decision to hold the wedding at Greengrass manor had been one of the most difficult ones of the entire planning process, and annoyingly one of the first ones they had had to make. It had taken almost a whole day to convince Narcissa it was a good idea. The majority of public churches were ruled out due to the whole muggles aren't used to wizards and witches problem. Malfoy Manor was no longer lived in, due to the fact that neither Malfoy had been willing to face going back there after the war. It was therefore not an option as it would take weeks to make the manor fit for the purpose and yet more money. The wedding was already costing a fortune with caterers, the band and everything else that needed to be paid for. Holding it at Greengrass manor not only saved money but it also meant that they could having a private wedding without the prying eyes of both muggles and reporters.

Security had been a problem that her father, aged ex-auror that he was, had been worried about. The floo network had been cut off for the day and the only way to get into the manor was through the large gateway at the foot of the drive. There muggle-repelling charms, as well as a whole host of anti-intruder curses and jinxes, had been placed to prevent unwelcome visitors. Each guest had received an invitation card, which had been carefully charmed so that it would allow them access to the manor. Without their invitation nobody could enter due to an ingenious ward that Daphne's father had had installed as only the cards would allow people to negate it.

"Told you he looked dashing," Tracey said as Daphne scanned the crowd looking for Harry. He wasn't hard to spot. The hair and perhaps more importantly the fact that everyone gave him a wide berth, unsure what to make of his presence, made him easy to see from the top of the stairs.

"Give it a rest or I won't introduce you," Daphne retorted. That got a huff from her best friend but it had the desired effect. Tracey had been dying to meet Harry. The threat masked the fact that Daphne refused to admit, out loud at least, that Tracey had a point. Harry did look rather dashing. Unsurprisingly the robes suited him rather well, although it had taken some convincing to even get Harry go shopping let alone get measured.

oOo

_Six Weeks Earlier…_

"_Why do we have to go robe shopping?" Harry complained as he followed Daphne towards the Leaky Cauldron. He had made no secret that he was not happy about their little trip into the Wizarding World. But there was no way around it, no matter how much he moaned. He couldn't turn up in a muggle suit to a wizarding wedding, even he knew there were particular lines that could not be crossed, and he had no spare robes that would suit the occasion. He had no choice. But, evidentially, that did not stop him complaining about it._

"_It's my sister's wedding," Daphne replied simply. _

"_I still can't believe she's letting you get away with bringing me," Harry said._

"_It's my choice, not hers. Besides, I think she enjoys infuriating Narcissa."_

"_Because that sounds like a good relationship," Harry remarked dryly causing Daphne to smirk as they approached the Leaky Cauldron. They rushed through quickly, avoiding the stares and the whispers of the patrons. Partly because if they didn't Harry would no doubt lose his temper and the prying questions that would be thrown their way, but also because Daphne did not have long to stay. Lunch breaks were not the best time to go shopping. But beggars could not be choosers._

_Daphne led the way down the alley, guiding Harry not towards Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions but instead toward Twilfitt and Tatting's. Where Madam Malkin sold robes for everyday situations, Twilfitt and Tatting's catered for the more formal events and unsurprisingly was far dearer. Shopping with Harry, however, had the added bonus of no price being too high. It paid being lord of two Noble and Most Ancient houses. _

"_Good day, Lady Greengrass," a young man in exceptional robes said in greeting from centre of the floor space as Daphne and Harry entered the shop. Daphne wasn't surprised that he knew her name, places like Twilfitt and Tatting's had a certain level of service. "And Lord Potter-Black, it is a pleasure to finally meet you. My name is Michael Coleman and how may I be of assistance?"_

"_We're looking for some robes for Harry. It's my sister's wedding," Daphne explained as Harry's face went hard at the sound of his title. He didn't like being reminded that, technically at least, he was part of the elite. The upper echelons of society. He was a gentleman and a lord. The trouble was he didn't want to be and hated the fact that he was. It was inescapable. But unlike Daphne, Harry had trouble accepting it. Daphne far preferred to accept it and not be bothered by it. Then she could get on with her life as there was a clear distinction between accepting that she was a lady and embracing it. _

"_Certainly, would you like to survey our collection?"_

"_I was thinking something a bit more personal," Daphne said knowing that the young man would get her meaning._

"_Of course, my lady. Lord -" Harry's jaw clenched again, "Mister Potter, if you would be so kind as to follow me?"_

_Coleman led the way towards a set of mirror at the far end of the shop. Once there he asked Harry to stand on a stool so as he could be measured for his robes. While the magical measuring tape whizzed around Harry and Coleman noted down each measurement in turn, he and Daphne discussed materials and colours as well as styles for the robes while Harry stared aimlessly into space. Under normal circumstances Daphne would have hated having to deal with Coleman. She wasn't overly fond of doing it herself when she came shopping. But when the alternative was letting Harry do it himself, which would no doubt end in a long-winded explanation of all the different types of robes and Coleman doing his best to sell Harry the most expensive. This way, at least, Harry would not be conned into parting with more money than he had to._

"_That wasn't too bad," Daphne said as they left the shop twenty minutes later having made all the decisions that needed to be made for Harry's robes and he had paid. The price hadn't even phased him, a fact that had not gone unnoticed by Coleman who seemed upset that Daphne had managed to talk him down by a few galleons. Being on commission would do that to a salesman._

"_He was a git!" _

"_A helpful git," Daphne amended although agreeing with his assessment. "Now that's over with, where shall we go for lunch?"_

"_Florean's is back isn't it?" Harry asked an excited glint in his emerald eyes as they headed back up the cobbled pathway._

"_I think so, his son runs it now," The old ice-cream maker had been abducted and then killed by a gang of Death Eaters. The shop had stayed closed for a few years after, it hadn't been bought more out of respect than anything else. Florean had been a good man from what Daphne could remember of the few trips she had taken in his shop during her trips for school supplies. _

"_I used to go there all the time in the summer before third year," Harry told her scanning the rows of shops as he searched for the ice cream parlour. "He gave me free ice creams."_

"_You spent a lot of time here then?" Daphne asked intrigued. Harry rarely ever mentioned details about his past. After everything that had happened he seemed to be far more interested in what was coming than with what had gone. Months spent wallowing on what could not be changed seemed to have made his mind more focused on the future._

"_A few weeks, yeah, I couldn't really stay at the Dursley's."_

"_Why?" _

"_I kind of blew up my aunt," Harry said slightly awkwardly, as if he was somewhat ashamed by his actions. _

"_Seriously?" Daphne laughed, unable to help herself. The image of a scared, small and scrawny Harry Potter blowing up his aunt was undoubtedly hilarious. Back then he hadn't been the most intimidating of figures. _

"_I didn't mean to, she was saying stuff about my parents and I just lost my temper and then she was… inflating." _

"_So you hid out here for the rest of the summer?" Daphne asked trying to keep her laughter under control. If this mysterious blowing up aunt was anything like his uncle or cousin then Daphne suspected there would not be much need for inflation. According to Harry by the age of ten Dudley had already been the size of a whale. He let little snippets like these through, never giving the full story, probably not wanting to look back. Harry had admitted that he had been miserable with the muggles, although he had quickly added that not all muggles were like the Dursley's. _

"_Basically, yeah," Harry shrugged, "wasn't as if I could go anywhere else. Ron and Hermione were on holiday."_

_Daphne's next question was interrupted as Harry came to a halt, a smile spreading across his face as he looked past her and at the shop behind her. Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. The family hadn't changed the name, despite the fact that it was now Fletcher Fortescue's business. There were some things that should never be changed. Daphne just hoped they had stayed loyal to his recipes. Straying from those really would have been a crime. _

oOo

"I see you managed to find it okay," Daphne said in greeting to Harry when she had made her way into the uncharacteristically busy hall of Greengrass manor.

"Didn't even get lost once," Harry replied dryly before adding; "you look great."

"You don't look so bad yourself," Daphne smiled ignoring the look that she knew Tracey would be sending her way. "Harry, this is my friend Tracey Davis. Tracey, Harry."

"Nice to finally meet you," Tracey grinned. Although, a grin would be selling the smile that was pulling across Tracey's face short. It was more of a beam. If Daphne hadn't already warned Harry that Tracey had been dying to meet him then she could only imagine how confused he would be by her best friend's reaction.

"You too," Harry replied with a slightly less enthusiastic smile, although that wasn't hard. "Daphne's told me a lot about you."

"Some people have no respect for privacy," Tracey commented dryly.

"Like you don't tell your friends about me," Daphne retorted.

"Not the point," Tracey said her grin turning to a smirk. "So, Potter, how'd Daphne manage to drag you here then? Torture? Blackmail? Promises of pay you back one day?" The last suggestion was said with a raised eyebrow which caused Daphne to shoot a glare at her friend. So much for trying to keep her mind out of the gutter.

"I'm just here to annoy Malfoy," Harry shrugged either unaware of the implications of Tracey's words or uncaring. Knowing Harry it could be either, the man was a little naive when it came to certain things. His lack of a proper childhood or any real dating experience other than Weasley had made him rather dense where certain things were concerned.

"Nice goal," Tracey remarked, "good luck with it. I'll see you guys later, I'd better go and find Adam. He said he'd be arriving about now. Have fun!" And with that she headed off into the crowd in search of her date.

"She seems nice," Harry said turning back to Daphne.

"She is," Daphne confirmed. Aside from her family, Tracey had been the only person to stick with Daphne through everything in her life. Good and bad. Everyone else had drifted away. Daphne wasn't bitter, it was what happened. School ended and most people had moved on, they had their own lives now and so did she. "She likes you."

"You think?"

"Tracey's not the best at hiding her emotions," Daphne explained. "If she didn't like you, you'd know about it."

"Sounds like Ron," Harry said, "he's just the same."

"Good thing he's not here then, he might've spoiled darling Draco's day."

"We wouldn't want that," Harry said dryly causing Daphne to smirk. "Speaking of Malfoy, where is he? Thought he'd be showing off before the big event."

"He's still getting ready," Daphne told Harry as people milled around them, some were taking notice of the last surviving Potter in their midst, others were too busy talking to notice. "Narcissa's running him through everything, making sure he's remembered it all. Mind you she's probably trying to talk him out of it too."

"I thought you said she loved Astoria?" Harry asked frowning.

"She did, until a few weeks ago, now, not so much."

"Why?"

"They had a difference in opinion," Daphne told him, "mind you that's putting it mildly. Narcissa was furious, apparently she tried to get Draco to call off the wedding. This was a couple of weeks ago, Tori hasn't really spoken to her since. Don't blame her either."

"What happened?"

Daphne took a deep breath before telling him the whole story. She only had Astoria's version of events to go on but her sister's explosive reaction had, once she had explained it, been more than justified.

oOo

_Two Weeks Earlier…_

"_That narrow-minded, obnoxious cow!" Astoria roared as flung open the door to Daphne's room. The only warning Daphne had had to the sudden appearance of her irate sister had been muffled shouting, the slamming of a door downstairs and the sound of running footsteps just outside of her room. Had Daphne been more engrossed in her reading then she may have missed such clues. As it was she had marked her page and waited for the outburst she knew was coming her way. Astoria was always incredibly vocal when she lost her temper._

"_Please, come in," Daphne said when her sister had flung herself down on her bed. "Something wrong?"_

"_Narcissa bloody Malfoy, that's what's wrong! I mean who does she think she is? Stuck-up bitch!"_

"_You're just getting that now," Daphne replied calmly from the chair next to her desk. "Just calm down, Tori. What's she done this time?"_

"_Tried to tell me and Draco how to raise our kids!" Astoria shouted loudly and then realising how it sounded added quickly, "I mean, not that we're even thinking about that yet or anything. It's just, you know, she thinks about things like that. Continuing the bloodline and rubbish like that."_

"_She is rather obsessed," Daphne agreed. This wasn't the first time that Narcissa had bought up the topic of ensuring that her family had an heir to continue their line. Daphne doubted that she was aware just how much she was falling into the stereotype most people pictured when they thought of pureblood matriarchs. _

"_Anyway, she was going on about it again, you know what's she's like." Daphne nodded at this, wishing her sister would just get on with the story. "I wasn't really paying attention but then she starts telling Draco that she hopes he'll raise our children with the 'right attitude'."_

"_That doesn't sound good," Daphne said warily. _

"_It isn't," Astoria told her angrily. "She thinks our kids should be bought up being narrow-minded bigots like her, just because she wants to cling to her stupid prejudices doesn't mean I'm going to. There's no way I'm letting my kids grow up thinking it's okay to look down on half-bloods or muggleborns. I mean, look at Tracey, she's half-blood and she's a healer for Merlin's sake!"_

"_So I'm guessing you told her how bigoted she was being?" Daphne asked, although she didn't really need to. Over the years she had been the receiving end of Astoria's temper. Forgiving she might be, but the younger Greengrass also had her limit and once she pushed over it she was not a pretty sight. _

"_Less politely," Astoria nodded. "But that's not the worst part, when she realised I wasn't going to play the pureblood prejudice game she tried to get Draco to cancel the wedding!"_

"_Seriously?" Daphne asked more surprised by the word: 'tried' than Narcissa's actions. Tried implied that she had failed, which meant that Draco, for the first time in his life, had ignored the wishes of his darling mother something which Daphne had never expected. "How'd that go for her?"_

"_Not like she wanted," Astoria told her. "Draco refused to do what she wanted and she started yelling at me, calling me a bad influence. He's taken her home to think about what she said, like that'll do any good. She's not going to change!"_

"_People like her rarely do," Daphne agreed not bothering to point out that exactly what Astoria was feeling was how she had felt about Draco all those years. The difference was Narcissa was too set in her ways to bother changing, not that she would want to. She probably thought her opinionated, backwards views were correct and she wasn't alone in that. What was surprising was Draco's reaction, refusing to give up on a marriage in which he knew the views he had grown up with wouldn't be accepted or carried on to his off-spring. It was intriguing to see just how far he would go for Astoria. Even the steps he had already taken had, annoyingly, caused him go up in Daphne's estimations. _

"_I can't believe she thought she could just run our lives like that!" Astoria fumed._

"_She's interfering and manipulative, to be honest, I'm surprised she didn't try something like this sooner." _

_Narcissa had seemingly been living her life vicariously through Draco for the last few weeks. It wouldn't surprise Daphne if she discovered that Narcissa's wedding had been a nightmare. It would explain why she was so determined to plan every detail of this one. But the chances of her voice being heard much longer seemed to have evaporated. Forgiving Astoria might yet happen, but there were some lines that once crossed could not be uncrossed. _

_But Daphne's comment, instead of placating her sister, only caused another tirade about Narcissa Malfoy. It took her far longer than she would have liked to calm Astoria down. The only reason that Astoria actually left Daphne's room was because of the arrival of a slightly sheepish looking Draco Malfoy. He had probably had to spend the same time having to do just what Daphne had been doing but with a mother who severely disagreed with his life choices. Primarily Astoria. It was amazing the U-turn one conversation could cause. In the weeks leading up to the wedding Narcissa had loved Astoria, but that particular flame had, apparently, died out leaving nothing but ashes behind._

oOo

"Bet the last two weeks have been fun," Harry said sarcastically when Daphne finished her tale.

"Like you wouldn't believe," Daphne muttered darkly. Half-way through her story they had started heading towards the garden. Somewhere along the way Daphne's arm had ended up in his. It was rather comfortable and had put her slightly more at ease. She was uncomfortable enough as it was with far too many people she either didn't know or didn't like surrounding her. It was nice to have someone who fell into neither of those categories by her side.

"Are all weddings this difficult to organise?"

"I wouldn't know, but I'll tell you one thing mine isn't going to be."

"Got it planned already?" Harry asked.

"No, I just know I'm not having all this," Daphne said waving a hand at the garden which they were standing in. Chairs were lined up with an aisle between them. A small band played soothing music as small groups of people chatted happily. A few people had taken their seats, but most were catching up with one another, drinks in hand and smiles plastered over their faces. Perhaps she was being cynical, but Daphne suspected that not even half of the people who were smiling and cheerful actually felt the way their faces said they did.

"Too much like pretending," Harry added.

"Exactly," Daphne agreed, "if I ever get married it'll be just the people I actually want to be there."

"You know that'll upset loads of people, right?" Harry asked looking around at the masses of family that were slowly piling into the garden. There were almost eighty people there, but had Daphne been organising the guest list it the number would have been far smaller. But then, Daphne only valued her immediate family. None of the others had ever really been involved in either her or Astoria's lives. So why did they have the right to be at their wedding? If they cared that much then where had they been for the past twenty or so years?

"Only the unimportant ones and who cares about them?" Daphne shrugged. She had long since given up trying to live by the standards that everyone else set her. It made no sense to her, living for someone else only benefitted them. She did what she wanted and she did it for herself, nobody else. Her friends were those she wanted, not those that she was expected to have.

"Depends," Harry said.

"On?" Daphne asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Which list I'm in,"

"That would be telling," Daphne smirked detaching herself from him as she headed for a floating tray holding glasses of a wine that Daphne was rather partial to after having stolen a few bottles from under Narcissa's nose. "Drink?"

"I'm good, thanks," Harry said shaking his head slightly. She had been expecting that, she had never once seen Harry touch a drop of alcohol. It was something she had noticed the day they had met but too much had been going on then for her to ask. Besides, they had barely known each other. That wasn't the case anymore. For better or worse, probably worse if some of the more prejudicial guests were asked, they were friends.

"Why don't you drink?" Daphne asked curiously.

"Bad experience," Harry admitted.

"How so?" Daphne probed gently knowing that Harry respected his privacy. But over the last few weeks he had started to open up to her, trusted her. It was a trust she had repaid him with in kind, as if she hadn't then he wouldn't be with her at her sister's wedding.

"After Ginny left I… well I didn't exactly deal with it."

"You started drinking?" It wasn't really a question, it was written all over his face. But it surprised herher nonetheless. Battered and damaged he may have been but the Harry she had grown to know had always seemed strong. Maybe he had been more broken than she thought. Love really did bring out the best and worst of people.

"Not much, just a few times, but that's why I don't do it now. It reminds me of what happened, what I did. I'm not proud of it, Daph, but I'm not going back there either. I know I probably sound stupid-"

"No," Daphne interrupted shaking her head, "you don't. Let's be honest, you've not exactly had the best luck, what happened with her, it was just one more thing. Everyone has a breaking point and you found yours. Doesn't make you stupid, just makes you human. Stupid would be letting her ruin your life."

"Fat chance," Harry said bitterly. He was still rather touchy when it came to Weasley. Her 'apology', for want of a better word, had not helped. There were some things that no amount of words could take back. Sleeping with a moron was one. Letting the press tear apart Harry was another. As far as Daphne was concerned Weasley deserved everything she was getting, partly because unlike Weasley, Daphne had never been one to hide away from her problems. That was what had started all this. Weasley had been too scared admit that something was wrong and had let it fester. So much for the brave Gryffindor.

"There you are then, not stupid."

"Thanks,"

"Don't mention it," Daphne said with a soft smile. "Now, why don't you go and sit down, they'll be starting soon. I'll see you later."

"Bridesmaids stuff?" Harry asked.

"Yep, see you soon," and with that she turned and headed away, back into the house while Harry went and found his seat. She wasn't the only one aware of the time, many people were following suit and heading to the chairs in search of their allocated positions. Some would no doubt be offended by where they had been seated. It was a wedding after all. Misplaced senses of importance and fragile egos always resulted in offense during family occasions, weddings were no exception.

"Daph, there you are!" Astoria shouted when Daphne had walked back into her home. Unlike when Daphne had seen her before, her sister was finally ready for the happiest day of her life. Beautiful didn't quite do Astoria justice. She wore a simple white dress that hugged her body in all the right places but was conservative enough not to earn lecherous looks from certain members of the congregation. Her hair, which usually hung loosely around her shoulders, had been crafted into an elegant bun, a few stands had been allowed to fall down and frame her face. The effect was breathtaking. Everything about how she looked just extenuated her natural beauty. Draco was in for a surprise when he finally saw her. Per tradition he hadn't been allowed to see his bride-to-be all day.

"You found her?" Tracey asked from the doorway that led into the dining room, which for the day's events had been cleared and made into a makeshift ballroom of sorts. Daphne realised, as she looked around the room, that she was the last bridesmaid to arrive. Rachel Sommers, Astoria's best friend since Hogwarts, was standing by the next Mrs Malfoy. Rachel was nice enough, although Daphne had never really spoken to her. Greengrass manor was big enough to have guests over while the rest of the occupants were blissfully unaware to their presence. "Finally, we were going to send out a search party."

"I'm not even late," Daphne pointed out exasperatedly.

"Ah, Daph, wondered where you'd got to," Daphne's father said happily as he entered the room. He was wearing a set of black dress robes with small white tulip protruding from his lapel. "We all set?"

"Pretty much, everyone's just sitting down now," Tracey said glancing out of the window. "Maybe give it a few minutes and then head down there?"

"Excellent idea," Daphne's father nodded before turning to his youngest daughter a gentle smile on his slightly lined face. "How you feeling, sweetheart?"

"I'm good, dad," Astoria smiled, although her eyes were slightly too wide and that smile to bright. "Just, you know, nervous."

"That's perfectly normal," Daphne's father assured her. "I was the same when I married your mother. I was so nervous. I remember I was standing up there, just like Draco is now and I was shaking like a leaf, my heart was out of my chest. But then I saw your mother, and she looked beautiful. It felt like I was seeing her for the first time in my life, that's way I can explain it. I don't really remember anything but her. Nothing else seemed to matter. I just knew she was the woman I wanted to spend the rest of my life with."

He paused for a moment, tears in his eyes and his voice shook slightly. Daphne never heard her father talk about her mother. Even now, after all the time that passed. Nobody ever did. It was impossible. Daphne struggled to bring herself to think about it, let alone talk about it with anyone. Even Tracey, who had been there and seen it all happen. Something wet brushed her face and rolled down her cheek. It took her a second to realise just what it was and brush it away. Her hand then went to her eyes, wiping them dry as she fought against the torrent of emotion inside her.

"My point is," Daphne's father continued eventually locking eyes with his youngest daughter whose eyes, like Daphne's, shimmered. "You're going to be fine. Forget about everyone else, this is about you and the person you love most in the whole wide world, okay?"

Astoria nodded seemingly unable to do anything else. "That's my girl," Daphne's father murmured softly as he wrapped her in a tight hug. They stayed like that for a long moment, Astoria burying her face in her father's shoulder and she held onto him like he was the only thing left in the world. Daphne tried her best to ignore the worried glances that Tracey was sending her way, instead she just stared at the wall not really seeing it. She wasn't really seeing anything. Memories of a time long gone by were crashing over her.

"Right," Daphne's father said as he pulled away from Astoria, "sorry, it's meant to be a happy day."

"It's okay, dad," Astoria assured him wiping her eyes as she did so, "I love you."

"I love you too," Daphne's father replied a serious edge to his warm tone as he gave her shoulder a quick squeeze before stepping back and turning to face Daphne a sad smile pulling at his lips. "Both of you."

"You too dad," Daphne whispered unable to make her voice any louder for hear it might crack. Concern filled his green eyes, which now fixed on her. She offered a small forced smile, letting him know she was okay. That didn't force the concern from his gaze but he cause him nod and step away. Her father didn't say anything, he didn't need to. Daphne knew what his actions meant. He had done the same when she was a kid. Back then the action had come with words: _I'm here if you need me_. But she wasn't a kid anymore.

"Well, we can't keep them waiting all day," Daphne's father said straightening his tie and forcing the sadness from his face. Daphne did her best to do the same, banishing the memories from her mind, using the memory techniques her father had taught her so many years ago. Occlumency had its uses. "Are we good to go do you think, Tracey?"

"Er - yeah, should be," Tracey told him hesitantly as she looked out the window once more.

"Right then, we'd better get going. You ready, Tori?" Daphne's father asked as he took his position by his youngest daughter's side. He held out his arm for to take, while everyone else got into position behind the pair.

"Ready," Astoria nodded. Together she and her father led the way out into the garden. Tracey was right, most of the guests had found their seats. Those that hadn't quickly sat down at the nearest available empty seat as they realised that the wedding was about to begin. The music changed from the gentle background tune to the wedding march that Astoria had picked.

At the head of the aisle stood a small, white archway. Gold and silver balloons were weighted down next to the arch. It was meticulously crafted and astoundingly beautiful the delicate archway stood alone, separate from everything and everyone else except three men dressed in finely tailored robes. Draco Malfoy and his best man Blaise Zabini along with the man presiding over the wedding: Simon Matterson. The symbolism of the archway, while far too obvious for Daphne's tastes, was nevertheless somehow slightly poetic. It was the doorway to the rest of their life. It wouldn't have been her first choice, but Astoria had always been the more romantic of the two of them.

As they walked down the aisle Daphne was aware of people crying or blowing their noses, some muttering and pointing and others looking bored as if they wanted to be anywhere else other than Astoria's wedding. Draco, however, looked like none of these people. Instead his face was cracked with a smile, his pale eyes glittering as he watched his fiancée and soon-to-be wife walk slowly down the aisle on her father's arm. Daphne decided it didn't suit him. But then again, in the years she had known him she had grown far more accustomed to seeing arrogance or smugness on his face rather than genuine happiness.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Simon Matterson said from just behind the archway. "We are gathered here today to witness the union of two faithful souls; Draco Lucius Malfoy and Astoria Isabelle Greengrass."

It was at this point that Daphne let her mind wander as she stared off into space. She hated long-winded ceremonies. Once or twice as the wizard carried on speaking Daphne glanced at the crowd. Narcissa did not look best pleased with the turn of events from her position on the front row. She wasn't very good at hiding her emotions. Daphne couldn't help but smile, something which Harry seemed to notice judging by the small smirk on his face as his eyes met hers.

"Do you, Draco Lucius Malfoy, take Astoria Isabelle Greengrass to be your wife?" Matterson asked eventually after what Daphne would describe as far too long. She did not understand why he had so much to say when the day was not about him. But as she watched her sister smiling brightly at the Draco all of her complainants vanished in an instant. She had never seen Astoria quite so happy. The look on her sister's face was worth the monotonous speech which had preceded it. A smile spread across Daphne's face as she watched on like everyone else.

"I do," Draco nodded his eyes never leaving Astoria's face.

"And do you, Astoria Isabelle Greengrass take Draco Lucius Malfoy to be your husband?"

"I do," Astoria said somehow smiling even more brightly.

"Then I declare you bonded for life."

Matterson then raised his wand high over the heads of the couple and a shower of silver stars spiralled around the couple as they leant together, entwined with a kiss. Daphne clapped along with the other guests. Somewhere someone cheered as the balloons, which had been tied to the ground either side of the archway, rose from the ground and burst releasing several tiny birds. The band struck up an upbeat tune led by the trumpeter. To her right Daphne was aware of a small man with a large camera hurrying to the head of the aisle. There was a flash as the moment was captured forever.

But it wasn't a photo of Astoria Greengrass, Daphne realised as the couple broke apart, that was very first photo Astoria Malfoy_. There are worse ways to start an album_, Daphne thought as she watched happy couple move under the archway their entwined and their faces beaming. Despite all Daphne's preconceptions of the man and her fears for what Astoria was getting herself into, Daphne knew it that moment that she had been wrong to worry. She had married the man of her dreams. He might not be perfect, but no-one was. But he made her happy and that, Daphne realised, was all that mattered.


	10. Mixed Reception

Chapter Ten: Mixed Reception

The aftermath of a wedding ceremony, Harry came to realise, was a lot of people all trying to say their congratulations at once along with mandatory pictures. What confused him the most was the fact that, as Daphne's 'date', he was required to stand and smile alongside her in more than one picture. After the fifth one he could feel his cheeks starting to hurt. But thankfully, for him at least, the photographer's attention was diverted to the parents of the bride and groom. Neither Narcissa Malfoy nor Matthias Greengrass looked especially happy with this development but posed for the pictures anyway.

"Having fun?" Daphne asked from his shoulder.

"I am now he's gone," Harry replied nodding to the small photographer who was insisting on another picture of the two 'happy' parents who both looked fit to kill the man. "Think you should be asking your dad the same thing."

"He's got to keep up appearances," Daphne explained as the look of annoyance on her father's face was replaced with a forced smile that forcibly reminded Harry of Lockhart.

"So, how does it feel to have Malfoy as a brother-in-law?"

"Great, I don't know why no-one's done it earlier," Daphne answered sarcastically. Despite her newfound tolerance of the only male Malfoy, Harry was well aware that tolerance was not the same thing as friendship. As far as he could tell, Daphne only didn't actively hate him for Astoria's sake. "But Tori's happy and that's what counts, I guess."

"Since when were you mature?" Harry smirked.

"At least they'll all stop being round soon," Daphne said ignoring his jibe. "They leave for Paris tomorrow, so Narcissa won't be hanging around for much longer."

"You could try and sound a little less happy about that," Harry added, "isn't she technically your aunt-in-law now?"

"I'm not sure that's a thing," Daphne criticised a small smile on her face. It hadn't slipped Harry's attention that the more he had known her, the more she had smiled. It wasn't something he credited himself with, he knew better than to think that somehow he had drastically changed her. Instead, Harry thought he was seeing the underneath her sometimes spiky demeanour. But wasn't that the point of friendship: to trust someone enough to let them in and see what lies beneath the surface?

"It's better than saying aunt," Harry pointed out.

"Say she's my aunt again and I'll detach something from you," Daphne retorted with only a hint of venom lacing her words and yet still somehow keeping the small smile on her face.

"You say the nicest things," Harry muttered dryly.

"You have worryingly low standards for what qualifies as nice," Daphne commented as she tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. There was a gentle breeze in the air now. Uncharacteristically, the sun had been shining all morning, with only a few wisps of clouds in the sky to accompany it.

"Coming from you," Harry said indignantly. "You're rude to everyone."

"I'm not rude to _everyone,_"

"Okay, most people," Harry amended.

"That's better," Daphne grinned slipping her arm around his. It was a strange sensation and one which Harry wasn't quite sure what to make of. Though it was hardly surprising, he had never really understood women. Mainly, as far as Harry was concerned, because they kept changing the rules. But he liked the fact she felt that comfortable around him. After all, he knew just how short the list of people she was comfortable with was. It was almost as small as his. "So, want to go get some food?"

"Sure," Harry nodded following Daphne's lead as she led him into the house. Many of the other guests were doing the same, aware of the buffet that had been laid on in the dining room. According to Daphne the highly expensive and hopefully equally talented caterers had been working for hours the day before to make sure that there was enough food to feed an army.

As Harry was led by Daphne into the dining room, which now served as a ballroom due to the occasion, he realised that he had underestimated how much food had been laid on. One entire side of the room was taken up with food, piled high on silver platters. Plates floated along the table, some waiting as food was served from the table onto them. All by magic, of course. It had probably taken someone a very long time to enchant all of the cutlery and the plates so as whatever the diners wanted was served to them with ease. Harry heard someone to his left saying their order to the silver plate they had collected from the stack by the door. It ceremoniously flew away to collect the food order, leaving the man free to continue to his conversation unimpeded by the collection of food. Magic, while never ceasing to amaze Harry, really did encourage laziness.

The band had moved from the garden a short while earlier and had set up their instruments on a tiny platform at the end of the room. A small drum kit stood next to a grand piano with the letters 'L.L.B' emblazoned on the bass drum. The leader of the band waited for the rest of the band members to take their positions, unlike when they had been playing outside, when two women had taken positions in front of old-fashioned microphones. When everyone was ready, the band leader sat at the piano, nodded and together they started playing. There was a round of applause, mainly from those who had already taken their seats at the small round tables situated a few feet from the musicians so as to create a small, yet sufficient space for people to dance while others ate.

"We're at the front," Daphne told Harry as she collected their plates.

"By Tracey?"

"That's the one. You're lucky, we were meant to be sitting with Tori. But I managed to convince her it would be a good idea to give her and Draco a table to themselves," Daphne said. "Dad's with us too."

"Greengrasses one side and Malfoys the other, right?" Harry guessed.

"You expected something else?"

"Not with you involved," Harry assured her. He hadn't expected anything less from an ex-Slytherin who had a tendency to avoid doing anything she didn't want to do. Sitting with Narcissa and Draco were surely top of that list. Most likely, Daphne had done everything she could to avoid either Malfoy without it looking like she was actively avoiding them. No wonder she had been sorted into the house famed for cunning.

"I'm taking that as a compliment," Daphne said as she led the way through the maze of tables. Their way was, however, blocked after they passed the third table by a large man with the red face of a man who had too much to drink for far too long. He was balding and, to attempt to disguise this fact, had a very obvious and unsuccessful comb-over plastered to the top of his head.

"Daphne?" the man asked cheerfully his drink sloshing about in his glass as he swayed slightly. "It is Daphne, isn't it? Astoria's sister?"

"That's me," Daphne confirmed not bothering to hide her displeasure at the man's presence.

"Last time I saw you, you were tiny. What must you have been, four, five? You were adorable." Harry looked at Daphne with a raised eyebrow, partly wondering who the man was but also because he had trouble imaging Daphne as 'adorable'. "And now look at you, you're beautiful. I can't get over how much you've grown!"

"Twenty years will do that to you," Daphne agreed her glower deepening as the man continued to sway. Harry felt his face twitch as he tried not laugh.

"Has it really been that long?" The man asked apparently unable to accept the evidence before his eyes. "You'll be catching me up soon."

"No, you're always going to have that forty years head start," Daphne said slowly, taking extra care with her words in a thinly veiled insult to his intelligence.

"And who's this you've got with you?" the man asked unperturbed by Daphne's rudeness. Judging by the frown on her face she had hoped it would be enough to make him go away. Either drink had dulled his emotional sensitivity, he was used to be insulted or he didn't understand that Daphne was insulting him. None of those choices were particularly good, but out of all of them Harry hoped it was just the alcohol. At least that was partially excusable.

"I'm Harry, sir," Harry said quickly before Daphne could respond with another rude, albeit deserved, comment. "Harry Potter."

"My, my, you are doing well for yourself, Daphne! Harry Potter!" the man said loudly, practically cheering. "Good to meet you, Mr Potter! My name is-"

"We have to go," Daphne said hurriedly cutting across the man as she motioned over his left shoulder. He turned to look and Daphne took Harry's hand and pulled him off to the man's right before he had chance to notice.

"He seemed great. Who exactly was that?" Harry asked when they were both sure that they had managed to get away from what Harry guessed was one of Daphne's family members. He hadn't exactly seemed like a traditional pureblood, but then again, he hadn't been in the best condition. Still, it was difficult to believe that he was probably from a long line of powerful witches and wizards. He barely looked able to recognise a wand, let alone use one.

"One of dad's cousins or something," Daphne answered as she continued to guide them towards their designated table. "I don't know, I never really pay attention when he talks about family stuff. They're not all like that though, most of them far more annoying."

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry muttered as he side-stepped to avoid a woman with apparently awful peripheral vision.

"Hi guys," Tracey smiled when they finally managed to get to the small circular table which stood just a few feet from Astoria and Draco's table. For the first time that day they were finally left alone, enjoying their food and whatever it felt like to be looking forward to spending the rest of their lives together. His memories of romance being somewhat jaded, Harry didn't bother to try and imagine how they could be feeling.

"This is Adam Hoskins," Tracey continued gesturing to the brown haired man sitting next to her. Harry could understand why Tracey was drawn to him, in the same why he could understand why some people enjoyed Celestina Warbeck or cricket. There was something there that attracted people, it just did nothing for him. "Adam, this is Daphne Greengrass, my best friend and her friend, Harry Potter."

"Hi," Adam said offering a confident smile and a hand to Harry before he had chance to sit down. There was slightly awkward moment that occurred in any encounter with a new person, where Harry shook his hand but didn't know quite else what to say other than 'hi' back. Instead he just nodded, forced an awkward smile and sat down when Adam released his hand.

"Nice to finally meet you," Daphne said to Adam as she took her seat next to Harry.

"And you, Tracey's always talking about you." Adam replied putting his arm back around Tracey's shoulders. The movement caused Harry to frown slightly. It wasn't just the arm, but the fact that he had felt the need to do so at the mention of his date's friendship with Daphne. It was probably nothing, but Harry had seen jealousy all too often before to not be suspicious. Then again, being auror made it hard not to see the worst in some situations. Harry knew all too well what jealousy could do to people.

"Who can blame her," Daphne commented dryly.

"You two having a good time?" Tracey asked, rolling her eyes at her friend's antics.

"It's good," Harry nodded. Although he only had one other wedding experience to compare it with and that hadn't exactly ended well. As bad as it had been, Harry knew that without Kingsely's warning it could have been far worse. _Small mercies_, he thought glumly. "I'm starving now though."

"It did go on a bit," Daphne agreed as she passed Harry his plate. "I think I'll have a chicken salad."

Dutifully the plate she was holding flew away, joining the orderly queue along the buffet table. Everybody followed suit as neither Tracey nor her date had ordered anything either. The conversation from then on was pretty much led by Tracey and Daphne, with Harry chipping in occasionally. Adam only spoke when Daphne asked how he and Tracey had met. Then it became impossible to shut him up as he regaled them with the slightly rehearsed and no doubt rose-tinted version of how they had met.

Daphne looked as if she was ready to stab Adam with her fork as the story, which Harry could have told in a few sentences, dragged on for a few minutes. Even Tracey's eyes had gone glassy and her smile had become a little too forced. But Daphne was spared having to inflict any physical harm on Adam by the arrival of her father, which cut across what was shaping up to be a very detailed and unsurprisingly mundane story.

"Sorry I'm late," Matthias Greengrass said as he took the remaining empty seat at the table. He was a relatively tall man, but unlike a few tall men Matthias Greengrass was built with it. Years of being an auror had no doubt caused him to keep in shape. Apparation had its uses, but most people needed to concentrate to be able to do it without splinching themselves. The result was that aurors, more often than people thought, were forced to chase suspects on foot. Physical fitness appeared to be something that Matthias hadn't gotten out of the habit of maintaining, unlike some of the other guests, and might have contributed to making him look much younger than he actually was. His age was, however, showing by his slightly thinning hair along with his somewhat lined face and dark green eyes. It was only when Harry looked into those eyes that he could really tell just how much Matthias had seen over the years.

"That photographer wouldn't let me leave," Matthias continued ignoring the fact that he had cut across Adam, "until he was absolutely sure he was happy. I wouldn't mind but it was a picture with Narcissa. It's not exactly the kind of thing I'm going to treasure forever. Anyway, never mind that. Daphne, Tracey, aren't you going to introduce me?"

"Matthias, this is Adam Hoskins, my boyfriend. Adam, Matthias is Daphne's dad."

"Good to meet you," Daphne's father said offering a hand which Adam dutifully shook.

"Dad," Daphne started before Adam had another chance to start talking, something which did not go unmissed by the entire table. "This is Harry. Harry, you know the rest."

"Nice to meet you, sir," Harry said earning himself a raised eyebrow from both Tracey and Daphne from his formality. But it was a habit Harry had never quite been able to shake, having had politeness drilled into him by the Dursley's on the rare occasion they ever actually let him meet people or if they took him out shopping.

"Now I'll have none of that 'sir' business, makes me feel like I'm back at work. It's Matthias to you," Matthias assured him before extending his hand as he had done with Adam.

"Then please, call me Harry," Harry replied shaking the proffered hand. The handshake was firm and reminded Harry of the ones he had experienced as Gryffindor captain. He felt as if Matthias was sizing him up, although Harry had been expecting as much. Matthias knew next to nothing about him, apart from the things that Daphne had mentioned, which knowing Daphne was barely anything.

"I'm sure I can do that, Harry," Matthias said as he let go of Harry's hand and picking up the plate he brought to the table. "Pork chops."

Just as the plate whizzed off towards the significantly smaller buffet, there was a small, delicate noise that somehow managed to cut across every conversation in the room. Draco Malfoy had gotten to his feet and was holding his wine glass in one hand, a small silver spoon in another. It was something Harry would never have believed he would see: Malfoy on his wedding day. After all their history, Malfoy's wedding was something Harry thought he would avoid like a rampaging skrewt. Yet here was. _Funny how things turn out,_ Harry thought as he, like everyone else, waited for Malfoy to start speaking.

"First of all, thank you all for coming," Malfoy began, "it means a lot to Astoria and I that you could be here with us."

"Liar," Daphne muttered under her breath only loud enough for Harry to hear her.

"I'd also like to say thank you to Matthias Greengrass for helping make all this possible and lending us his home for the day," there was a smattering of applause. "But the person I'd like to thank most is sitting right next to me. Astoria, I know it's not always been easy but I'd just like to say thank you for putting up with me and showing me a life I never thought I'd have."

There was another, somewhat louder round of applause as Astoria, a gigantic smile on her face and her eyes shining, got to her feet and wrapped her arms around her husband. As the applause started to die down Harry saw Malfoy give a small nod towards the platform where the band was waiting. There was a moment of hurried preparation followed by a gentle melody played softly by the pianist.

"May I have this dance?" Malfoy asked pulling away from his wife only to offer her his hand. Astoria nodded and together they headed out onto the dancefloor under renewed applause from the guests. But Harry's attention was distracted from the couple by the appearance of an all too familiar face.

"Lovely, isn't it," Narcissa Malfoy commented to nobody in particular as she approached the table. The last time Harry had seen the Malfoy matriarch had been her trial just after the war. She had never thanked him for what he had, not that he had expected her to. Narcissa Malfoy didn't thank people. At best she acknowledged what they had done, at worst she ignored it. But that hadn't stopped Harry intervening. He hadn't done it for her gratitude. As much as Harry hated to admit it, Narcissa had saved his life, so in return he saved hers.

"What do you want?" Daphne asked bluntly not bothering to hide her contempt.

"A dance," Narcissa answered politely with what she probably thought was a gentle smile. Instead, she looked like she had swallowed stink sap. "With Matthias."

"Seriously?" Matthias asked frowning just as his meal appeared at the table. "But I haven't eaten."

"It's traditional for the parents of the bride and groom to share a dance," Narcissa insisted never losing that forced smile. "I'm sure your food can wait."

Matthias sighed and got to his feet with the air of a man who was walking to his death. "Fine, let's get it over with then."

Narcissa took the arm that he had extended and together they headed out to the almost empty dancefloor. Unlike the newlyweds, neither Matthias nor Narcissa looked thrilled with the situation that tradition decreed they be in. The applause had long since died and some of the guests were getting to their feet, their respective dates on their arms. Yet none of them walked onto the dancefloor, it was as if they were all waiting for something. It clicked in Harry's head all too late what that something was. He wasn't just a date, he was a dance partner.

Internally cursing Harry turned to Daphne, offering her his arm. "Would you like a dance?"

"I thought you'd never figure it out," Daphne smirked taking his arm. Together they got to their feet and walked towards the dancefloor. It had been years since Harry had been forced to dance, but he vaguely remembered where his hands were supposed to go. With one hand he took hers, the other went on her the small of her back. He felt her free hand on his shoulder. If he had thought that having her arm in his had felt strange, then this was full blown weird. Daphne didn't do physical displays of affection, yet here she was comfortable in his arms as he was in hers. He felt himself smile.

"Who'd have thought it," Daphne said as Harry began to lead, "Harry Potter, fighter of evil and ballroom dancer."

"I'm not very good,"

"I've seen worse, just don't step on my feet and we'll be fine," Daphne assured him as she gently corrected his stance. Her breath was warm on his neck as they moved slowly in small circles, swaying in time to the gentle beat of the music. For the first time that day, Harry wasn't paying attention to everyone else around him. Partly, because he was paying full attention to what his feet were doing, being careful not to stand on Daphne. But it wasn't just that. He was actually enjoying himself. The gentle movement of the slow dance was somehow relaxing.

"Thank you for this, Harry," Daphne said quietly after a moment, breaking the silence between them. "I know this isn't really your scene."

"It's not yours either," Harry pointed out. "But it's okay, you'd do the same for me."

"I would," Daphne nodded, her head gently brushing against his chest as she did so. "Anytime."

"There you are then," Harry said simply a smile on his lips, "besides, it's not been all bad. I'm having a pretty good time actually."

"Me too," Daphne admitted. Harry glanced at her, waiting for the punchline or the sarcastic comment but nothing came. Instead she just smiled at him, enjoying the moment. He had never really noticed how much her smile brightened her face, mainly because he hadn't looked. But now that he did, Harry realised just how beautiful Daphne's smile was. He felt privileged to be one of the few people to see it. "Which is surprising because, you know, usually you're such awful company."

"I thought I'd make an effort today, it is a wedding, after all."

"Is it?" Daphne asked faking surprise. "Thank you for telling me, I wouldn't have noticed."

"Happy to help," Harry smirked, she laughed and rested her head gently on his shoulder as they continued to dance. They stayed that way until the music stopped, not speaking but instead enjoying the music and the company that they provided for each other. But when the song ended, their bubble was burst as people all around them applauded. One of the singers stepped forwards to introduce the next song.

"Thanks for not stepping on me," Daphne said as they broke apart.

"It's okay, thank you for the dance," Harry replied with genuine sincerity. "It was better than the last one I had. Actually, it was probably the only one I've actually not hated."

"I guess those dancing lessons dad forced on me were finally good for something," Daphne grinned.

"I told you they would be," Matthias Greengrass interjected as he joined them from the crowd of dancers to Harry's right. Daphne's grin vanished in the face of her father's somewhat smug expression. Clearly, his eldest daughter had never expressed anything resembling gratitude for the lessons. If anything, Harry suspected she had complained about them for the entire time she had been learning. The Daphne he knew had a habit of being vocal when she didn't approve of something, no doubt she had been the same growing up.

"Where did you come from?" Daphne asked glowering at her father.

"I'm a shapeshifter," Matthias answered sarcastically. "Now, how about we see how much of those lessons you really remember? That is if you don't mind, Harry? I wouldn't want to interrupt."

"It's fine," Harry said somewhat confused as to why he was being asked permission. "We were finished anyway."

"Thank you," Matthias said graciously before offering his hand to his eldest daughter. She took it and together they moved off into the crowd, leaving Harry alone on a dance floor filled with more people than he would have liked. He was just about to head back to the table when he heard a voice from his shoulder

"She'll be back soon," a woman told him, her voice raised so as to be heard over the new music that had started playing. Harry turned to see none other than Astoria Malfoy looking back at him. It was the first time all day that he had seen her without her new husband, which probably wasn't a coincidence. Malfoy wouldn't exactly be desperate to talk to him, a feeling that Harry shared with equal vigour. "Dad can't dance for too long, he gets bored, just ask Narcissa."

"What do you mean?"

"He dumped her on Draco after about a minute," Astoria explained, "so, would you like to dance?"

"Dance?" Harry repeated unsure how to react to the offer. Partly because he didn't even know Astoria, but also because she was now Malfoy's wife. Dancing with the wife of his childhood enemy was something he had never managed to picture himself doing, but then again Harry had never thought he would attend Malfoy's wedding either.

"Yes, dance," Astoria nodded with far more patience than her sister ever had. If he had been speaking to Daphne he knew that his question would have earned him a sarcastic remark. But Astoria seemed to be far more people friendly. "Both of our dates have been stolen, after all, and it seems a shame to waste a good song."

"Alright," Harry replied mainly because he couldn't think of any reason to say no. Astoria grinned and before Harry knew what was happening his hand was in hers and she had closed the space between them. There was a long moment while Astoria patiently waited for Harry to get used to the sudden intimacy and then they were moving, Astoria initially taking the lead while Harry adjusted to the slightly faster song. He wasn't used to dancing.

"Congratulations, by the way," Harry said deciding that he should probably say it at some point. It was Astoria's wedding day, after all.

"Thank you," Astoria grinned, "Although, I must say I'm surprised you came. I know your history with Draco hasn't exactly been great."

"That's one way of putting it," Harry remarked dryly, aware just how generous Astoria's assessment was. Harry had spent a long time hating Draco Malfoy, even after the war had ended. Harry hadn't quite been able to move past old grudges. To Harry, Malfoy would always be a bully, no better than Dudley had been for all those years. "But I'd promised Daph I'd come."

"And here you are," Astoria finished for him. "She won't say anything, you know what she's like, but it will have meant a lot to her that you actually came."

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You don't really know me for one thing, or anyone else here for that matter," Astoria began. "You and Draco aren't exactly on the best of terms either, and, from what Daph has told me about you, you hate these kind of things. Yet, you came anyway."

"Of course I did," Harry responded rather a little more hotly than he had intended. But he couldn't help it. He didn't understand what the big fuss was about. So, he didn't like big parties or Malfoy, so what? He wasn't doing it for any of those reasons, so why did they matter? "She's my friend."

"I can see why she likes you," Astoria smiled adjusting her position slightly so as to avoid Harry's foot, which was no longer in time due to the fact that his brain had lost track of what he was doing. "And, no offense, but it's not for your dancing."

"I probably should have warned you I'm terrible," Harry muttered apologetically as he tried to get back in time with the music, which was no small feat considering that he was as good a dancer as the giant squid back at Hogwarts.

"I'll know for next time," Astoria shrugged. "Here, let me."

They stopped for a moment while Astoria took a slightly firmer grip on his shoulder before leading him, miraculously for Harry at least, in time with the music. It took him a second to realise that she was audibly counting for him, so that he wouldn't lose track with where they were. They continued in the same vein until the end of the song, Astoria gently guiding him around the dancefloor with far more grace and ability than when he had been leading them and Harry doing his best to keep up.

"See, you're not that bad," Astoria said when the song had ended. "You just need a little practice, that's all."

"I think you mean a lot," Harry corrected earning a laugh from the youngest Greengrass sister.

"I was being kind," Astoria replied. "Anyway, I'd better go and find Draco before Narcissa starts telling him how awful our marriage is going to be, again."

"She's a lovely woman, I've always said that," Harry commented sarcastically. He had no idea why Narcissa felt the need to interfere, but it wasn't anything new. After all, she had sacrificed a cause, which Harry could never quite decide if she supported, just to find her son and get him out of harm's way alive. Over-protective and judgmental were not qualities that worked well together, as Astoria seemed to be discovering.

"Isn't it just? She's been trying it all week, Merlin only knows why she hasn't given up yet. Cow." There was a slight pause as Astoria lost herself in her dislike for Narcissa. "Sorry, you probably don't want to hear about all this and I shouldn't be complaining about my mother-in-law on my wedding day."

"I don't think anyone could blame you,"

"Thanks," Astoria said with a half-smile that managed to slightly dent the gloomy look which had darkened her features. "But like I say, I'd better get going, it was nice meeting you at last."

"You too," Harry replied honestly, although he would never have guessed she was related to Daphne. It was amazing how different two people could be. Despite their differences, there were aspects that were similar. They were both protective of one another. Harry wasn't stupid, he knew that the only reason Astoria had come to speak to him was because of Daphne. No doubt, the youngest Greengrass had been intent on discovering whether Harry was good enough to be her sister's friend. However, unlike Daphne, Astoria had been subtle in her approach. Daphne's treatment of Malfoy, on the other hand, had been nowhere near as gentle.

"See you later," Astoria waved before turning and heading off deeper into the dancefloor.

As soon as Astoria turned away Harry did the exact same, except he headed away from the dancefloor before anyone else had chance to grab him and attempted to force him to dance. The only reason he had agreed to dance with Astoria was because it was her wedding, he could hardly have said no.

It took Harry a lot longer than he had expected, but eventually he was able to fight his way back to the table they had been designated earlier. Being annoyingly famous in a crowded room meant that trying to get anywhere was difficult. Several people attempted to stop him and engage him in pointless conversation.

Under the guise of searching for Daphne, however, Harry was able to slip by them without having to stop and chat.

"We wondered where you had gotten to," Daphne commented when Harry finally managed to reclaim his seat at the small table, having narrowly avoided being dragged into a debate on the legality of flying carpets by a man Harry vaguely recognised from the Ministry.

"We thought maybe you'd been kidnapped by a rogue Death Eater desperate to get revenge for his long dead master," Tracey added dramatically from her seat opposite. The chair where Adam should have been sitting was empty, Harry idly wondered where he had gotten to. "Well, I did, Daph just thought you got stuck trying to find your way back through all those people."

"You always did like to be a drama queen," Daphne commented as she passed Harry a drink. Unlike every other drink on the table, this one was not wine based and was instead far more orange. "Pumpkin juice, thought you might like some."

"Thanks," Harry smiled gratefully accepting it, although he wasn't entirely sure where she had managed to get it from. Every drink he had seen floating around had been either wine or champagne. Then again, this was also Daphne's home as well as the location of her sister's wedding. She had probably stashed some away somewhere.

"Not a problem," Daphne replied, "how's my sister, by the way? I saw that she managed to convince you to have another dance."

"She seemed fine, though I think she was just trying to find out if I was good enough to be your friend or not."

"She does that," Daphne said completely unsurprised by her sister's actions. "But you're still here, so I'd say that it went well for you".

"Tori approval, nice going, Harry," Tracey grinned, "that took me ages."

"You did turn her hair blue," Daphne argued.

"I didn't mean to! We were, what? Seven at the time?"

"I was, you weren't." Daphne corrected.

"Alright, grandma, just because you're older than me," Tracey smirked earning a glare from her best friend, "anyway, it wasn't my fault. She shouldn't have jumped out at me like that."

"Not your fault is practically the definition of accidental magic." Daphne remarked sarcastically before adding some context to the story for Harry, "We were playing hide and seek, and instead of waiting to be found Tori decided it'd be more fun to scare Tracey."

"It wasn't," Tracey added grimacing at the memory.

"She screamed, a lot," Daphne continued a grin on her face, "so I came running in and she'd turned Tori's hair bright blue, I mean really blue. Worst thing was we couldn't change it back until dad got home, Tori sulked for hours."

"It was a nightmare. You've never seen anything like it Harry, I'm telling you. I don't think I've seen anyone pout so much. Mind you, if you want to hear about proper sulking, you should get Tori to tell you about the time she tried to set Daph up with Anthony Goldstein."

"That was not funny," Daphne protested as Tracey started laughing at the memory, the grin that had been spread so widely across her own face had vanished, replaced by a stern glower that rivalled Mrs Weasley's.

"It was hilarious," Tracey insisted, "we'd agreed to meet her in Hogsmeade, this was in sixth year I think. Anyway, when we got there Tori made me go up to the bar with her and left Daph at the table. Anthony went over, thinking Tori had told Daph what was happening. I think he lasted five seconds."

"He'd bought flowers," Daphne interjected, "who brings flowers on a first date?"

"I think he was trying to make an impression," Tracey added, "in his defence, he succeeded. I mean it was a bad one, but still, who's counting? Where was I? Oh yeah, so we were just getting drinks when the next thing you know Daph's thrown his drink in his face. A whole one too, not even like he'd had a sip or anything. She just chucked it straight in his face and stormed out."

"You're kidding?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Not even a little bit," Tracey laughed, when her laughter subsided she turned to Daphne and asked: "What did he even do? Apart from the flowers."

"I told him there wasn't a chance and that Tori had overstepped and then he practically begged me to go out with him because all his friends had girlfriends and it'd impress them if he managed to get with 'someone hot' like me."

"Typical man," Tracey said shaking her head sadly.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harry asked indignantly.

"That most men are obnoxious pigs that only ever think about themselves," Daphne explained.

"She's got a point," Tracey agreed.

"But don't worry, Harry, you're one of the few exceptions." Daphne added with a gentle smile. Harry felt himself smile back in return. Daphne didn't usually give out compliments, if at all. But their rarity, if anything, only made them more important. A warm feeling washed over Harry as he looked at Daphne. Circumstance had thrown them together but if anything that just made their friendship more valuable. If his life had gone to plan, Harry was fully aware that they never would have met, never mind become friends. Kind words from Daphne only served to prove that he wasn't alone in valuing what could so easily have not existed.

Tracey and Daphne carried on in the same fashion for the rest of the evening, sharing stories from each other's past, each more detailed and embarrassing than the last. At some stage they were re-joined by Adam, who tried and failed to join in before spending the rest of the time staring glumly off into the distance. Harry became increasingly aware of how annoying his behaviour was, unlike Tracey, who had either grown accustomed to it or didn't care. Daphne, on the other hand, would send him quick glances every so often, as if checking he was actually still there and that he hadn't vanished.

"I'd better get going," Adam said eventually, breaking his vow of silence just as Daphne was describing Tracey's first and apparently only experience on a broom. "I have to be up early tomorrow."

"I'll show you out," Daphne offered quickly, getting to her feet before even Adam had. Tracey frowned at her friend's sudden eagerness to be polite. No doubt that she knew better than Harry just how rare Daphne's manners were. Alarm bells rang in Harry's head as he watched; he had a suspicious feeling that he knew exactly what was going to happen next. Greengrass's were protective, after all.

"No, it's okay, I can find my way out." Adam tried but Daphne was having none of it.

"I insist," the firmness in her voice made whatever protests Adam had surely been planning die on his lips. He nodded and together, with Daphne in the lead, they headed out of the dining room. He hadn't even bothered to say goodbye to Tracey. Whatever Daphne was about to do to him, Harry couldn't shake the sense that Adam deserved it.

"That can't be good," Tracey said as she watched her boyfriend being guided away by her best friend.

"It'll only be as bad as Adam's treated you all night," Harry told her. "Why are you even with him? He seems like a total git."

"He's not always been like that," Tracey sighed. _Here they come_, Harry thought glumly, _the excuses_. He had seen it far too many times and it was always the same, ignoring the pain of the present in the hopes that the future would be better. The only problem was that ignoring a problem just made it worse, Harry knew that much from first-hand experience.

"No, I don't suppose he was. Look, Tracey, I've met his type before. Whatever he saw in him was an act. That man, the one that's been ignoring you all night for no good reason, that's really him."

"I know he's not perfect," Tracey said sadly, staring morosely into his empty glass. "But it's better than being alone. Besides, he's not always like that, he can be really sweet sometimes."

"Let me guess, he's like that when he's pushed you too far, right?" Tracey didn't answer. She didn't have to, the answer was written all over her face. Harry felt his heart sink. From the few hours he had spent with her, Tracey actually seemed to be every bit the person that Daphne had told him she was. Funny, smart and above all kind. She deserved better, much better.

"How long has it been going on?" Harry asked as gently as he could, there was no easy way to pry into someone's private life, especially when it wasn't in the best shape.

"A few weeks," Tracey admitted, "which is pretty much the whole time we've been going out really. He was nice, but then he just sort of stopped, being nice I mean. He's been really stressed with work and not seeing me, not that I can really help that, you know what it's like." Harry nodded, he was more than aware what long hours could do to a relationship. "I just keep hoping, I guess, that he's going to be like that again because I liked him. I really liked him. I thought maybe this time I'd got it right."

"You've had this kind of thing happen before?"

"I've never really had much luck with men," Tracey confessed, "But I'd hoped it was going to be different this time. Maybe he just needs some time or something?"

"I don't think so, I'm sorry. I really am, but can't you see what he's doing to you? I mean, you've been happy all day, even though he wasn't talking or anything. But as soon as we started talking about him…"

"I got like this," Tracey finished.

"Yeah," Harry nodded lamely. "Does that happen a lot?"

"Not really. I mean, maybe, I guess." Tracey faltered, "Yes, actually. Yeah, it does. I try not to think about it too much, but yes."

"Is that why you've been doing so much over-time?" Harry probed, the thought suddenly striking him. It had seemed odd that Tracey, despite bucking for promotion, would be stuck at St. Mungo's all hours, unless she was doing it on purpose. But if she was really happy with Adam, surely she would want to be at work as little as possible?

"Maybe," Tracey shrugged, "I don't know, we've been short staffed lately, and what with the promotion and everything I've needed to do more work. But, I suppose I haven't exactly rushed home or anything."

"Sometimes, when you want something to work so much, you pretend, just for the sake of it working, rather than because it actually is." Harry said solemnly.

"Was that what it was like for you with Ginny?" Tracey asked, her eyes moving from her glass to his. Unshed tears shone brightly as Tracey looked at Harry. Had she asked him that question at any other time and he wouldn't have answered. But as Harry stared back at her, saw the pain etched in her face and the sadness in her eyes, he knew that there was no way that he could hold back. Tracey was sharing something very personal with him, the least Harry could do was return the favour.

"No, that was what it was it was like for Ginny with me. We both made a lot of mistakes, but she wanted me to be something I wasn't. It's the same thing with Adam, really. You think maybe if you just wait long enough, then he'll go back to being what he was before. But his type never do." Harry paused for a moment, a piece of advice that Daphne had given him what felt like a long time ago.

"A few months after me and Ginny split up and things weren't going too great for me, a very close friend of mine gave me some really good advice. Basically, she told me that I had to decide whether it was worth clinging to something that just made me miserable or if it was better to put it aside and move on. That's what you've got to do, because, honestly I don't see this ending any other way. If you're like this all the time because of him, then surely he's not worth it."

"You know what, you're right, screw him. I don't need him. Just because every other man I've been with has been a total prat doesn't mean the next one's going to be, right?" A small, very forced and trembling smile pulled at Tracey's lips. Tears ran down her cheek but she brushed them away, sniffing slightly as she did so.

"You must think I'm a right idiot."

"No, maybe bit too nice but not an idiot." Harry said not quite sure else what to say. He wasn't very good around crying women.

"Thanks, Harry, really."

"Don't worry about it. A friend of Daphne's is a friend of mine."

"Are you always this good to your friends?" Tracey asked as she dabbed at her eyes, doing her best to wipe away the last of her tears.

"Always," Harry nodded as he passed her a napkin which she gratefully accepted.

"Then you must be a great friend to have around," Tracey said when she had finished with the napkin. There was a brief pause, in which Harry tried desperately to think of something, anything to say. But his mind came back blank as he looked at Tracey, who despite having dealt with her tears as best she could, was still clearly upset. He never had been able to console anyone, least of all someone he had only just met. Harry even had trouble with Hermione, and he'd known her for over a decade.

The uncomfortable silence, however, was thankfully soon broken by Tracey who said: "I think I'm going to head home. I don't really feel much like a party anymore."

"I'll walk you out," Harry offered as she got to her feet.

"You don't have to," Tracey tried.

"I've got nothing else to do," Harry pointed out as he too rose from the table.

"Okay, thanks," Tracey said quietly and together they headed out of the dining room. Harry took the lead so as to gently, and with as much politeness as he could muster, move people out of Tracey's way. There was point in her hanging around. Being upset was bad enough, but going through turmoil with people watching wasn't going help her in the slightest.

They had made it to the hall, in what Harry thought was probably a record time for the evening. Unlike the packed dining room turned ballroom, the hall was practically empty. Hours earlier it had been filled to the brim with guests who had long since moved on. Not only that, but the sound of the music and the chatter of the reception was muted, making Harry realise just how much he had had to raise his voice that night. The sudden realisation made his throat ache.

"Are you leaving?" Daphne asked from her position by the open door that led out in the gardens of Greengrass manor. Her hair was slightly damp, and as a result lost some of its stylised elegance. There were also droplets of rain that glistened on her exposed arms. But none of that managed to take anything away from the fact that she still looked amazing. Harry wasn't quite sure how, before today, he had never really noticed just how pretty Daphne Greengrass really was. He supposed he had never looked. For whatever reason, and he was entirely baffled as to what that reason was, he had started to pay attention. Harry decided to put it down to the clothes and the occasion, like when he had seen Hermione at the Yule Ball. He had never noticed her before then, but hadn't exactly noticed her beauty since either. There were some lines that should never be crossed.

"Yeah, I'm not feeling that great," Tracey answered. "Besides, I've got work at five, I should probably get some sleep soon."

"Good idea," Daphne said. "Though you'd better use the floo, it's getting pretty bad out there."

"Thanks, do you mind telling Tori I'm sorry for leaving early? I'd stay but, you know, work and everything." It was a fairly lame excuse but neither Harry nor Daphne questioned it. Tracey had done enough talking for one night, Harry could hardly blame her for wanting to just be alone for a while. Tracey was at a crossroads in her relationship, she needed time and space to herself. A wedding was hardly the place for that.

"I will, she'll understand."

"Thank you," Tracey said, the relief practically washing off of her. "Well, I'll see you soon then, Daph."

"Yeah, we'll have to do something again soon," Daphne nodded.

"Definitely," Tracey agreed before her friend pulled her into a firm hug. It lingered for a little longer than most hugs, but there seemed to be a lot more to this hug than the average one. It wasn't hard to see that Tracey was in pain, even for Harry and he barely knew her. Daphne wouldn't have missed it. It was the reason for the hug, Daphne was reassuring her friend that she would be there if Tracey needed her to be. A hug like that was better than any amount of words could ever be.

When they broke apart, Tracey turned to Harry, "It was good to finally meet you, Harry."

"Likewise," Harry assured her with a smile. He had been slightly nervous to meet Tracey, Astoria and Matthias too for that matter. They were the people closest to Daphne, sure she had other friends at work, but her family and her best friend were the people that truly mattered to her. A small part of Harry had been worried that they wouldn't like him and how that might have affected his friendship with Daphne. It was a stupid part of him, he knew that, but it had been there nonetheless. But whatever nerves he had had long since faded. Apart from the last few moments, Harry had actually enjoyed spending time with Tracey and Daphne. He had felt at ease, for most of the evening, anyway.

"Thank you, again, for everything."

"You don't need to thank me," Harry said noticing the arched eyebrow that Daphne sent his way. "I'm just glad I could help."

"You really did," Tracey told him sincerely. "Anyway, see you around, Harry."

"Night, Tracey," Harry replied, earning himself a small smile in the process. With that Tracey turned on her heel and headed out of the hallway, into what Harry could only assume was a living room. As he watched her go, Harry couldn't help but wonder if he had done the right thing in being honest with Tracey. He didn't really know the whole story, but her pain and torment had been as clear as day. Everything she had said reminded him of how Ginny must have felt for all that time, and all the pain that their relationship had caused the pair of them. If Tracey's circumstances were even slightly similar, and from the sounds of them they were worse, then dragging it on would only make things worse, not better. Harry couldn't stand by and let that happen to someone else, not if he could help it.

"What was that about?" Daphne asked as soon as she saw the flash of green light that signalled Tracey's departure from under the crack of the living room door.

"She just needed someone to talk to," Harry said running a hand through his hair as he did so. "Where'd Adam disappear to anyway?"

"How should I know? He ran off. Merlin only knows what Trace sees in him, spineless little worm."

"What do you mean: 'ran off'?"

"You didn't think I was going to let him get away with treating Trace like that, did you?" Daphne countered coldly. "Don't worry, he left before I could do any serious damage. Mind you, I think he'll find the damage I did do serious enough. He's got more than a few boils right on the-"

"I get the picture," Harry said quickly, grimacing as a wave of empathy shot through him, quickly followed by the desire never to be on the wrong end of Daphne's wand.

The grotesque mental images of what Daphne's displeasure could do to a person were quickly banished, however, by the sound of the tall grandfather clock that stood to Harry's left. A long chime signalled the arrival of quarter to seven. Harry internally cursed, if he didn't hurry he was going to be late.

"I think I'd better going too, actually. I promised I'd see Teddy."

"Leaving me to face the Malfoys and my family all on my own, some date you are," Daphne smirked, sarcasm dripping off her words. "I hope you have a good time."

"I will, try not to miss me too much."

"You wish," Daphne smiled before adding warmly, "Goodnight, Harry."

"Night, Daph," Harry said, expecting to maybe give a small wave or just simply watch him go as he headed out of the manor and into the rain soaked gardens. What Harry wasn't expecting was the sudden hug as Daphne's arms encircled him. He was dimly aware of hugging her back. The same warm sensation that had been inspired by her kind words hours earlier, now cascaded over him. It wasn't like any of Hermione's hugs, ferocious and full of hair. Or even the ones that Mrs Weasley had used to give him that practically suffocated him. Even Ginny's had been tight, as if she was clinging to him. Daphne didn't hug like any of them. It was warm and gentle. Harry could feel strands of Daphne's hair on his chin as her head rested against his shoulder. But just as he was starting to get used to it Daphne pulled away.

They both stood there for a moment, looking at one another before Daphne flashed a quick smile, turned on her heel and headed back towards the dining room. Harry soon followed suit, only his path led him out into the pouring rain. It took a matter of seconds for his hair to be soaked, plastered to his scalp. He didn't care. He just carried on walking, a spring in his step and a smile on his face.


	11. Cause and Effect

**AN: Okay, so I'd first off like to say thank you to alpha_alieria for betaing this entire story and the latest chapter. You've been amazing and really helpful, so think deserve a shout-out! Also, would like to thank everyone for helping this story to getting over 1000 follows and over 200 reviews! It's really appreciated and I'm just glad that you're all enjoying the story. I apologise for how late this update was but it: a) took me ages to get it right, and b) work has pretty much taken over my life. So sorry for that, but I hope you enjoy!**

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Chapter Eleven: Cause and Effect

Perhaps unsurprisingly the news that Harry Potter had been the date of Daphne Greengrass to her sister's wedding didn't stay private for long. In fact, it only took a day for _Daily Prophet_ to have an article written and published. They even had photographs. _So much for privacy._ At least there were no pictures from the actual wedding, all the articles had managed to find were photos of Daphne at other functions. Although, Daphne was sure that it would only be a matter of time until that changed. Someone was bound to sell. Somebody always did. Everyone had their price, usually a sack full of galleons.

"Someone's grumpy," Daphne's father said by way of a greeting as he entered the kitchen. He had a ridiculously large grin on his face, probably due to the fact that there were no longer any more Malfoys clogging up his home. Neither her father nor the gigantic grin did much to improve Daphne's mood. She hated publicity. There was a reason she was an unspeakable. No one bothered her, ever. She could just happily get on with her work, go home and occasionally attend the odd boring function and listen to the same dull morons. That was how her life had always been. At least, until she had met Harry. He had not been boring or idiotic or selfish or arrogant. He had something new, something she hadn't expected. But the problem with the unexpected was that it often caused change. Most of the changes in Daphne's life since that ball had been good, but this definitely did not fall under the heading of 'good'.

"You would be too if your face was all over the paper," Daphne pointed out glowering at the morning edition.

"At least it's a nice picture," her father commented when he walked past the newspaper on the counter where Daphne had abandoned it. She hadn't even begun to read it. But the more she looked at it, the more that Daphne realised it would only be a matter of time until she did actually read the stupid paper. Tracey would've read it, Astoria too, there was no way she was going into either of those conversations unprepared.

"It's still on the front page," Daphne seethed, "is there seriously nothing else more important going on in the world?"

"Evidentially not," Daphne's father said as he picked up an apple from the counter and started to munch on it happily. "How bad is it? Are you the latest in a long line of admirers fallen hopelessly in love with the charms of a hero? Or are they going for: 'Harry Potter: Lover or Victim?' You could be part of a love potion scandal."

"I'm offended that you think I'd need to stoop to a love potion," Daphne said as she drew her wand, with a quick flick of her wrist the newspaper flew towards her. The ridiculous theories that her father had spouted were not, by the _Prophet's _standards, that implausible. They had a habit of blowing up any story, especially ever since Romilda Vane had taken over the articles which had previously been so lovingly written by Rita Skeeter. Unfortunately, Vane had the same gossip-obsessed writing style which Skeeter had used to such good effect for years. _Out with the old, in with the new._

"You know I don't, that Vane woman might though. She's a nasty piece of work, Daph."

"A nasty piece of work obsessed with anything Harry related," Daphne corrected. "Remember that six page spread she did just because there were pictures of him at Quidditch?"

"That was a little much," Daphne's father agreed after a particularly loud crunch of his apple.

Daphne nodded, but didn't add anything to the conversation. Her attention had been drawn by the paper that she now held in her hand and the article that took up the majority of the front page:

_True Love or Reckless Rebound?_

_It is no secret that after the devastating break-up with long-time fiancée Ginny Weasley, Harry Potter has been in emotional turmoil. Yet, despite the fact that only a few months have passed since the that tragic affair, it appears that Harry is already prepared to put the past behind him and find love in another's arms with none other than Lady Daphne Greengrass, 25. There have already been numerous reports of the two attending the wedding of Draco and Astoria Malfoy together. Is this, perhaps, their official declaration to the Wizarding World that they are an item? _

_Not only did Harry attend the Malfoy's wedding with Lady Greengrass on his arm, but they also shared what has been described by some as an 'intimate' dance during the reception. Surely this cannot be a simple friendship? Recently, Harry was seen attending a Ministry function with his close friend Hermione Granger. Yet, on this occasion, there were no such reports of displays of affection between the two, which suggests that Harry's relationship with Lady Greengrass is a little more personal than his friendship with Miss Granger. Reports from attendees of both occasions also indicate that this ball was where Harry's new relationship first blossomed as he was seen leaving with Lady Greengrass after the now infamous confrontation with Miss Weasley. Perhaps Lady Greengrass saw an opportunity that night to take advantage after witnessing Harry's tragic breakup and it is only that this opportunism has borne fruit. _

_All of this begs the question: Who exactly is Daphne Greengrass? Despite her esteemed position as Lady Greengrass, Daphne works as an unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries. In addition, during her time at Hogwarts – in which she and Harry were in the same year – Lady Greengrass was a Slytherin. The rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin is legendary, and it is one which extends far beyond the walls of Hogwarts. Therefore, to say that this new relationship is unlikely is an understatement. If Harry was looking for something different than his relationship with Miss Weasley, he could not have found a better woman than Lady Greengrass. _

_But is this dramatic change necessarily a step in the right direction for Harry? From his perspective, heart-broken and betrayed by the woman he loved and was set to marry, it may feel that way. Yet, there are those close to Lady Greengrass who feel that Harry's heart has led him down the wrong path. Lady Narcissa Malfoy, mother of Lord Draco Malfoy who is now the brother-in-law of Lady Greengrass, gives a less than positive impression of Lady Greengrass. According to Lady Malfoy her son's marriage to Astoria Greengrass was constantly under threat from Astoria's sister who attempted to: 'manipulate Astoria for months, all because she never liked Draco. She even tried to ruin his day by bringing Potter to the wedding. I've never met anyone more selfish.' Harry and Lord Malfoy have, since their Hogwarts days, constantly been at odds, a fact that Lady Greengrass appears to have used to her advantage. Is this the kind of woman that Harry Potter should be seeing? _

_Friends and fans of Harry Potter will surely be hoping, as I do, that this is either a necessary phase to cope with a lost love and that Harry has not fallen for the charms of a witch who appears to be less than deserving of his devotion._

_For more on Harry Potter's latest love affair turn to pages 2, 3 and 4._

"Well," Daphne said as she threw the paper back onto the counter, "the good news is I'm not part of a love potion scandal."

"That is always good news," her father agreed with a small nod.

"Bad news: Romilda Vane hates me and has decided to paint me as a manipulative, self-absorbed user who is only out to abuse Harry's trust and 'devotion'" Daphne told him, air-miming quotation marks as she added the word 'devotion'. "Oh, and Narcissa told them that I tried to sabotage Tori's wedding."

"She did what?"

"It's as bad as it sounds, apparently I only came with Harry just to upset poor darling Draco after I spent months trying to manipulate Tori into not marrying him."

"I swear that woman isn't happy unless she's insulting someone," Daphne's father remarked, his good humour vanishing in the face of Narcissa's hostility. It wasn't fully undeserved, Daphne was aware of that, but this was a step too far and one which was clearly motivated by the fact that Narcissa had lost in her bid to try and prevent her son from marrying a woman she deemed beneath him. That, and she hated Daphne, a feeling which was most definitely mutual.

"I don't think she got enough hugs as a child," Daphne mused still glowering with resentment at the newspaper. It wasn't that she cared what people thought or anything, if she did then she would have started living the pureblood princess lifestyle a long time ago. What annoyed Daphne was the fact that the article took a little bit of her life out of her own hands. Whether she was bothered by what people thought of her or not didn't matter, it was going to be a lot more difficult living life whilst constantly being judged by a vast array of different people. She was starting to understand why, when the press had turned on him, Harry had started spending more time in the muggle world.

"You have no idea how right you are," Daphne's father told her, "I've met her parents. They were not exactly what you'd call friendly."

"That explains a lot," Daphne said with a slight twinge of sympathy for the Malfoy matriarch. Growing up a Black wouldn't have been easy for anyone and often ended with conformity to their worldly views. That, or a complete break from the mold. Bellatrix Lestrange and Narcissa Malfoy had gone down the conformity route. But Andromeda Tonks had reacted completely differently to the Black version of parenting, and instead of spouting the age old line of 'pureblood supremacy' had married a muggle-born. It hadn't taken long for Daphne to decide which reaction she preferred.

"And how about you?" Daphne's father asked seriously. "Are you okay with all this?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. A little infamy never hurt anyone." Daphne lied. She didn't like lying to her father, but there were some things that she couldn't share with him. The truth was that she hated being in newspapers and magazines, her private life should stay that way. She hated being out of control. But there was no chance Daphne was going to tell her father that. He worried about her enough as it was.

"That's the spirit, rise above it." Daphne's father said a smile returning to his lips. "How do you reckon Harry's going to take it?"

"Not too great, but he won't see it for a while, he doesn't really read the papers anymore."

"I can't really say that I blame him, anyone would be put off after what they've put him through." Daphne's father said sympathetically. "Mind you, he managed to endure Draco's wedding without duelling him so, you never know, maybe he'll surprise you. He might even be flattered."

"Are you seriously jumping on that bandwagon?" Daphne asked exasperatedly. _Was it so implausible that a woman and a man could be friends? _"Honestly, you're as bad as Tracey."

"I'm not jumping on anything, I just want you to be happy, that's all." Her father said sincerely. It was something about him which Daphne both loved and yet at the same got immensely annoyed by all at the same time. She was a grown woman for Merlin's sake, she could deal with her own life and her own problems. But Daphne's father never quite managed to grasp that particular concept and as a result still viewed her as the little girl that needed protecting. But Daphne wasn't a little girl anymore, and while his concern was touching, it was also rather frustrating at the same time.

"I don't need a boyfriend to be happy, dad. I like my life the way it is."

"I'm not saying that you do, I just don't see the point of denying yourself someone just because you don't 'need' them. You're an independent woman, and that's great. But honestly Daph, I don't think I've seen you have that much fun at a family occasion since you were little."

"So, I'm not allowed to have fun now?" Daphne countered a little more tersely than she had intended. But she was starting to get a little sick of all the Harry jokes her sister and Tracey had been teasing her with for the past few weeks. It was starting to feel as if she wasn't allowed to have a male friend. First them, then the _Prophet_ and now her father.

"Not when our family is here no, generally you hate the entire evening."

"That's because they're annoying," Daphne argued.

"No, it's because they weren't there," Daphne's father said calmly, his voice quiet and sincere. Their eyes met for a moment and as much as Daphne wanted to deny it and go on pretending that it was because her family were morons or had bad personal habits, she couldn't. There were only so many lies and jokes that she could that would cover up the actual reason she loathed her family. It wasn't out of frustration or petty mindedness, the truth was that they never once been there. Even when Daphne had needed them most. As far as she was concerned, the only family that she had were those that lived under her roof. The rest, they meant as much to Daphne as strangers on the street. They only ever turned up if there was a party to be had, food to be eaten and alcohol to be consumed. That wasn't what a family should be, a bunch of party guests to bump up the numbers. But they had had their chance, Daphne wasn't ever going to give them another.

"They've never really made much of an effort your entire life, so I get why you don't bother with them now." Daphne's father continued as Daphne stared sullenly at the counter, her memories crashing over her. "But, that's not what I'm getting at. You actually had fun, Daph and it wasn't because of me, or Tracey or your sister. The only reason you enjoyed yourself was because Harry was there."

"Yeah, because he's my friend," Daphne said exasperatedly, dragging herself back from a past that she didn't want to remember.

"A friend who you constantly go on lunch dates with, a friend who you've seen more than Tracey over the last few months."

"She's always at work," Daphne objected.

"He puts a smile on your face all the time," her father continued.

"So does Trace, and playing the piano and watching you fail at cooking. Doesn't mean that I'm in love with any of those things."

"It is pretty funny when I try do that," Daphne's father agreed a small, wistful smile on his face. There was a small moment of happy recollection before her father's face went serious again, his smile fading a little as he looked at his daughter. "I know that you probably think I'm trying to interfere. But, I'm only looking out for you, okay?"

"I know," Daphne told him gently, her anger rapidly fading as she looked at her father. All he had ever done was his best by her, which was far more than she had seen other people's parents do for them. While all the other Slytherins in her dormitory had bemoaned their fathers for being insensitive or stupid for treating them like children, Daphne had never once wished, like they had, that anyone else could be her father. He was the best she could ever have wished for, there was no denying that. "Sorry."

"Don't apologise, I get it. It's your life and you can live it how you want. Just do me a favour, and take some advice for your old man. Don't deny yourself a chance at happiness for the wrong reasons. I've seen people do it and they've always regretted it, sometimes for their whole lives. If he's just your friend, and that's all you want, fine. But if there is something more then don't ignore it. He's a good man, you could do a lot worse."

"You met him for five minutes," Daphne pointed out, partly in an attempt to distract her father from the topic of her alleged attraction towards Harry. It wasn't a conversation she was overly comfortable having with most people, let alone her father. There was nothing going on, Daphne told herself, so why was it so difficult for him to see it?

"But you're forgetting I'm friends with his boss. Do you really think I'd have let you bring him without checking him out first? I might be retired but I was still an auror once."

"And apparently completely paranoid too," Daphne smirked.

"It comes with the territory, you don't seriously think Moody was the only one?" Daphne's father grinned before adding, "Seriously though, Daph, life's too short and it never gives you second chances. Just think about it, okay?"

"We're just friends, dad," Daphne assured him feeling like a broken record as she did so. There were so many times she could deny that anything was going on before it became slightly exhausting. But there wasn't anything there. Daphne hadn't been lying, she liked her life just as it was and that included Harry. He had rapidly become an important part of her life, something which Daphne had neither asked for nor expected. But it had happened nonetheless. So why did people feel the need for there to be more?

Tracey, Astoria, her father, all of them in their own way continually tried to make Daphne see her friendship with Harry their way, as something which would blossom to be more. Why? Wasn't friendship enough? It was something Daphne was beginning to cherish, as she slowly became more comfortable around him, trusted him. She knew that Harry felt the same. He had opened up to her on more than one occasion, which for a man like Harry was more than a little special. Surely that was enough?

"So long as you're sure," Daphne's father said.

"I am," Daphne nodded. "Anyway, I'd better get to work. Try not to have too much fun without me."

"I won't, I promise. Have a good day, sweetheart." Her father smiled warmly as he reached for the newspaper again, flipping straight to the back for the Quidditch scores. Internally Daphne smirked, her father was not a typical man in many ways, but both his way of reading the paper and his obsession with Quidditch were his exceptions.

"You too," Daphne smiled before giving a small wave and heading out of the kitchen. Her exit was a little more rushed than she would have liked, but thanks to the impromptu heart-to-heart with her father Daphne was running a little late. Not that she minded, a sentiment that she knew would not be by Luidhard. The aged wizard had an almost worrying devotion to schedule. Years trapped underground with the Hall of Prophecies had not served him well.

The only reason he was still in charge of the day-to-day running of Daphne's section of the Department of Mysteries was because of seniority. He had been one of the only unspeakables to survive Voldemort's reign at the Ministry. It wasn't public knowledge, unlike the decimation of the auror ranks. But when Voldemort's forces had taken over the Minsitry one of their first priorities had been attempting to learn the secrets kept within the Department of Mysteries. The result had been fairly brutal. Most of the half-bloods had been rounded up as suspected muggleborns, unable to prove that they had to pure-blood parents. The rest had either been forced out or, like Luidhard, clung to their jobs and done their best to undermine Voldemort's minions from the inside. It had been an effective tactic, mainly because none of his lackeys knew what they were expecting to find in the Department of Mysteries and, as a result, had no clue when they were being lied to and when they weren't.

But it had been a tactic which had only worked for so long, and ultimately the fate of the Department of Mysteries had taken an especially violent turn. Unable to hide their research any longer the remaining unspeakables had destroyed much of their work to prevent the Death Eaters from getting to it. The only reason they were still breathing was because their little stunt came the day before the Battle of Hogwarts. The rest, as they said, was history. The years after Voldemort's coup had been spent trying desperately to restore the work that they had lost, which part of the reason that Daphne's work on time-turners had taken so long to get started. There had simply been more important projects which had taken priority. Time-turners could be bought, the research of the unspeakables could not.

The Ministry was as packed as usual by the time that Daphne had arrived. This was her least favourite part of the day as it was, as forcing her way through a crowd was something Daphne despised almost as much as floo travel. She wasn't very good with tight spaces. They made her want to lash out for no reason. The logical part of her mind could not understand why they had that effect on her. But that was practically the definition of an irrational fear.

But for the first time since she had started at the Ministry, Daphne actually managed to make it through the crowd of workers with ease. Her new-found reputation caused people to step back and stare. Whispers and murmurs followed her the entire way to the lift and none of them were good. Daphne caught snippets such as: 'Who does she think she is?', 'What's Potter thinking?' and 'she's not even that pretty'. Daphne couldn't shake the sense that, as she got into the lift with a couple of secretaries she had seen around once or twice, this was going to be a long day.

The trip down to the Department of Mysteries was, thankfully, without incident. Whenever the lift stopped most of the people who had been queuing to get in hesitated when they saw Daphne, as if scared that the stuff Vane had said about her was somehow contagious. At least it meant she got some peace. No matter how secure she was in herself it still wasn't fun to hear all the things that people were saying about her.

"You're late," Luidhard informed Daphne when she arrived at her desk a few minutes later.

"I got held up," Daphne explained as she threw herself down into her chair. Due to the varying nature of their work each unspeakable had their own separate offices just off of the Hall of Mysteries itself. As a result each office was exceptionally different from one another. Daphne had lined one wall of hers with rows of bookcases, each filled to bursting point with books she had collected both through work and from home over the course of the last few years. A small collection of blackboards of varying sizes stood behind her desk, each of them filled with calculations and some containing sketches of the new designs she had been trying for her time-turners.

"Make sure that it doesn't happen again," Luidhard said a glower in eyes and a curl of his lips. "There are rules for a reason, Greengrass. Speaking of which...you are aware that funding for your little 'experiments'" his thin, pale hand waved dismissively at the collection of dismantled time-turners on Daphne's desk. "Is running low. If I don't have results soon -"

"You'll try and scrap the project, I know, you've said before." Daphne finished curtly as she pulled the mounted magnifying glass towards her so that it stood above the tiny pieces of deconstructed time-turner. It was fiddly work which, Daphne had discovered was best done mainly by hand. Using her wand to levitate the pieces had gotten far too complicated. Instead she now just used her wand to fuse the pieces together when she needed to.

"You're on your last chance, Greengrass," Luidhard continued in his best attempt at a threatening manner. Daphne merely arched an eyebrow, not even bothering to look up as she started to begin her work for the day. Any other day and she might have attempted to be slightly more friendly, but this was not any other day. Enduring an entirely awkward ten minute journey, which Daphne wasn't stupid enough to believe would be an isolated incident, was enough to ensure that her mood had spiralled well past ordinary.

Luidhard huffed and stalked away, muttering angrily to himself as he did so. There was going to be repercussions, but in that moment Daphne didn't care. All she wanted to do was be left alone to do her work. Her wish managed to come true for the majority of the morning, not that it did her any good. Daphne was still getting nowhere with her work; if anything the modifications she had made had only sent her backwards and not in the way in which she wanted them to. The difficult part wasn't restoring them to their intended function, Daphne had managed that weeks ago. The problems lay in expanding the range, both forwards and backwards.

The only thing that could improve Daphne's mood as she leafed bad-temperedly through Jean-Luc Baderre's: _Theoretical Time-Travel: Paradoxes and Possibilities _was that she was only a few minutes from lunch. Time with Harry in the muggle world was precisely what she needed. In fact, Daphne was just about to give up finding any answers in Baderre's book and set out when she was interrupted by an abrupt knocking on the door_. _The knocker didn't bother to wait for Daphne to let him in, instead he just walked into her office. Peter Miller had never quite managed to grasp boundaries, or social interaction in general for that matter.

"Busy?" he asked although it wasn't really a question, rather it was his attempt at politeness. Miller stood there for a long moment, waiting for Daphne to reply. His fingers beat an erratic rhythm against one another as he did so. Even by the standards of many unspeakables Miller was considered odd. He constantly ditched his robes whenever he arrived at work, preferring to wear muggle garments claiming they were more comfortable. He was a half-blood and as a result had been exposed to more of the muggle world than Daphne had been growing up. It was clear just to look at him that he preferred the style of that world. Clad in a red t-shirt, black waistcoat with a pinstriped back and jeans, Miller would have blended almost seamlessly into any street in London. Black ink even crawled up his arm, although unlike muggle tattoos, Miller had charmed his to move. The tribal design on his wrist, which Daphne knew covered up a deep scar, swirled and twisted as he stood there, reflecting the impatient nature of the man who stood in Daphne's doorway.

"Excellent," Miller continued when Daphne had closed her book with a slightly resigned sigh.

"What do you want?" Daphne asked exasperatedly.

"I came to offer my… sympathies." At Daphne's blank look he continued, "the article."

"Thank you," Daphne said once her brain had caught up with what was happening. She had never known Miller be anything that could be described as nice - he could be deemed infuriating, self-absorbed, egotistical and abrasive - but never nice. "But I've been called worse."

"I wasn't referring to the baseless slander," Miller explained, a frown creasing his brow. He had gone strangely still, even his fingers had ceased their erratic tapping. "Although, I imagine that in some cases it could cause distress."

"Then what are you talking about?" Daphne asked setting down the book on her desk, dread gripping the pit of her stomach. What had Vane written in that article?

"How much did you actually read?" Miller probed with a delicacy that Daphne was entirely unprepared for. Over the years she had gained a slight repartee with Miller, probably based on the fact that she was one of the few unspeakables that he didn't actively dislike. But never in all that time had he been delicate. Rude and ignorant, definitely, with only the occasional signs that he actually didn't despise her. For Miller remembering Daphne's name had been a big step. He had then taken to referring to almost everyone else as: 'Not Greengrass'. But she had never expected him to be so… nice.

"Just the front page, but it was just more of the same, those things always are."

"While that assumption is indeed usually correct, in this instance it is not. I rarely read the _Prophet_ myself but I overheard the others talking about it and It appears that instead, Vane continued with a background piece." Daphne felt the colour from her face drain, the look on Miller's pinched face could mean only one thing. She was dimly aware of Miller drawing his wand from his back pocket as her brain raced, trying desperately to think of something, anything else that it could be. But there was nothing.

"I know that you enjoy your privacy, and therefore I believed that you might want to be made aware of what Vane wrote." Miller said as he threw down a copy of the _Prophet _onto her desk. "While I am aware that it was a long time ago, but you have never mentioned it. Not once in the one thousand, two hundred and thirty six days I have known you. I felt, therefore, perhaps it was… difficult for you. I have suffered a similar fate myself, a fact I seldom share with others. It wasn't much of a leap to realise that you do the same. However, Vane has made has made that rather impossible for you now. I felt that you should be aware. Ignorance is never bliss. It simply makes the realisation of what transpired worse. I would not wish that on you."

Her reverie was broken as a copy of the _Prophet_ was thrown onto her desk. She saw her own face look up at her but tore feverishly past that. The second page was more of the same but it was the third page in which the article took a dramatic change of pace, moving the focus from Daphne to her family. Astoria was first, then her father and finally taking up an entire column was what she had been dreading. Underneath all the words which Daphne couldn't bring herself to read was a small photograph. It didn't do her justice. No picture ever could.

"They shouldn't have printed this," Daphne heard herself say as she continued to stare at the photograph. Her sadness was rapidly being overtaken by a righteous sense of anger. They had no right. It was her life. If she had wanted everyone to know, to remind her of that part of her life, then she would have told them. But she hadn't. Instead Daphne had buried it deep inside her for longer than she cared to remember. It should have stayed that way. The past was the past, there wasn't a thing she could do to change it, no matter how much she might have preferred it to. But she couldn't, she had grown to accept that much, not that it made it any easier. All Daphne had ever been able to do was bury it, because the alternative was all too painful.

"Since when do the _Prophet_ actually print what they should?" Miller asked with a hint of sympathy in his voice.

But Daphne wasn't paying any attention. She dimly aware of getting to her feet, but her mind wasn't focused on what her body had planned. All Daphne could focus on was the memories that she had thought she had long since put aside. Memories of a time long since gone. Something warm trickled down her cheek. She wiped it away furiously, blinking back the rest as she headed out of the office. She couldn't stay there. Daphne had no clue where she was going, but in that moment she didn't really care. All she wanted to do was leave. She needed to leave. She couldn't stay there, she couldn't think straight. The floodgates had opened.

Every memory, every thought, every lost hope and dream that she had pushed down was surging through her. Her stomach twisted, her heart pounded as blood thundered in her eyes. It took everything Daphne had to stem the flow of tears that wanted to cascade down her cheeks. The woman she had become had vanished in an instant, and the lost girl she had been took her place.

Daphne wasn't sure how long she had been walking or even where her feet had taken her. Her solitude was only broken by the sound of her name, quiet at first, then louder. She turned, slowly becoming aware of the air that gently played with her hair. Somewhere a car horn blasted. Sunlight streamed into her eyes as Daphne looked up into the clearly concerned face of none other than Harry Potter. It took her a moment to realise where she was, standing outside the small restaurant which Harry had picked out for lunch.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked gently closing the gap between them a little. His green eyes flitted back and forth, examining her face. People bustled past them, desperately rushing about as muggles in London always seemed to. But neither Harry nor Daphne made them much attention, both were blinded to everything by the other.

"Not really," Daphne replied honestly, there was no way that she could really deny it. A few stray tear tracks stained her cheeks and all the colour had drained from her face. But she wouldn't have lied to him even if she could have. He was one of the few people she trusted, one of the only people she felt comfortable enough to share how she felt with. The pain that was ripping through and tearing out her heart was something which she would usually have tried to keep secret. But not with Harry.

"C'mon, let's get out of here. Talk about it back at mine?" Harry asked softly.

Daphne nodded, aware that they were slowly starting cause a miniature spectacle for those who had nothing better to do. She felt his hand wrap around hers, giving it a gentle squeeze as he led her way, taking them down a smaller and quieter side street away from prying eyes. As soon as they were clear from view Daphne felt the all too familiar and uncomfortable sensation of apparition. The London street vanished and the large black door of Grimmauld Place replaced it in an instant.

"So, what's up?" Harry said as soon as they had crossed the threshold and the door had shut out the rest of the world behind them.

"You haven't seen the paper today, have you?" Daphne tried on the off chance as they headed deeper into the house, hoping that she would spared explaining at least some of the details. But it was a slim hope and one which was crushed as Harry shook his head, a frown knitting his brows. "They, well they did a piece on us, usual rubbish. Except, not all of it was."

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked clearly confused as he banished the gloom with one flick of his wand. The sudden burst of light from the various candles that lined the hallway caused Daphne to squint for a moment as the house was thrown into sharp relief.

"There are some things I haven't told you. A lot really. I just, I don't like to talk about it." Daphne explained. His eyes met hers, but he didn't say anything, instead he just waited. They had come to a stop at the foot of the stairs. Daphne sank down, casting her eyes to the floor as she took a seat on the stairs.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm the wave of emotion that threatened to overcome her. Part of her wanted to remain silent, just carry on staring and let the world carry on moving around her. It was a stupid part, the part of her that was scared to face up to the consequences. Daphne let her eyes flit to Harry, only for a moment, checking he was still there. It was a fear that had clung to Daphne ever since that day, and one that no matter how hard she tried she couldn't shake. But Harry didn't move. He just stood there, steady and resolute in the silence.

"My mum's dead," Daphne told him bluntly, painfully aware of the waver in her voice and the tears that were making her vision swim. "She died when I was a kid. We'd just started Hogwarts. I'd never have gone if I'd known what was coming. But I wasn't there, I didn't see her. I never even got a chance to say goodbye."

"I'm sorry," Harry said joining her on the step. Daphne felt his arm go around her, pulling her close. She didn't fight it, instead she just let her head rest on his shoulder.

"It's alright," Daphne muttered, sniffing a little as she wiped at her eyes. "Why do people say that: it's alright? Even though it really isn't. She was my mum and she could've done so much more. I mean she was brilliant, she was… amazing. She could've done anything, you know? She shouldn't have gone like that. It wasn't fair. You see so many people just waste their lives, how come they get on living while she doesn't? Why them? Why not her? Why did it have to be my mum?"

Tears cascaded down her cheeks, but Daphne didn't care. She probably looked pathetic, stupid even. But ever since it had happened Daphne had forced herself to be responsible, her father had been hard pressed to look after himself, never mind Astoria. During the weeks after her mother's death, Daphne had spent almost all of her time looking after Astoria, making sure that she had everything she needed until Daphne had been forced to return to school. What Daphne needed had gone out of the window, a sacrifice she had been more than willing to make. She had just closed herself off from it, tried her best to get past it. Move on. After a while, it had become impossible to stop.

They sat there in silence for a long moment, Harry's hand gently rubbing her shoulder, a little awkwardly at first. But the longer they sat there, the less awkward he became. He didn't say anything, instead he just let her get it out. The years of sadness tinged with guilt that Daphne had spent refusing to face up to her past had crashed over her unexpected, unwanted and without mercy. All the pain that she had bottled up inside her, the sorrow that had molded, came spilling out with the hot tears that had made tracks down her cheeks.

"I don't know why, Daph," Harry said softly, his voice tender as he broke the silence between them. The flood of tears and raw emotion that had overwhelmed Daphne had somewhat stemmed as she leant against Harry. He had waited for her to finish, to get it all out. They could have been sitting there for five minutes, or fifteen, or even an hour. Daphne wasn't sure. "And you're right, it's not fair. None of it is. But you've still got your dad, right, and Astoria and Tracey and me. We're not going anywhere. I'm not. I promise."

"Thank you," Daphne said her voice barely above a whisper as she gave him a watery smile. Somehow 'thank you' couldn't quite do justice to just to what Daphne was feeling in that moment. He was one of the only men in her life that she had ever let get close to her. For that matter, over the years Daphne had rarely let anyone get close to her. Tracey was the only exception, partly because she had been there and seen what had happened, but also because Tracey was exceptionally loyal and refused to give up on her friends. Daphne had always suspected her friend would be better suited in Hufflepuff than Slytherin, but was exceptionally glad that the hat hadn't put her there.

"You don't have to thank me. I'm your friend, remember?"

"Here was me thinking we were complete strangers," Daphne joked. It was an old tactic, deflection through jokes or sarcastic comments, and one she knew all too well. It was an excellent survival skill and a terrible habit.

"Sorry to disappoint," Harry smiled before adding, "What was she like?"

"Sorry?" Daphne asked startled and completely taken off-guard by the sudden change of tact.

"Your mum, what was she like? I mean, you don't have to answer if you don't want to, I get it. Really. But I just thought it might help." Harry said quickly, his voice a mixture of panic and understanding.

Daphne sat there, contemplating his words. If there was anyone who could understand how she felt it was him. Of course he would. Harry had been forced to go through his life without anyone, no parents, no family. All he had were his friends. For all the pain that Daphne had suffered she couldn't imagine what Harry must have felt. A part of her felt stupid, selfish for laying all her trouble on the man who had endured far worse than she could ever have imagined.

"No, it's fine, I get that." Daphne assured him when she realised she hadn't said anything. Maybe he was right, maybe it would help. Daphne had never thought of it like that. Faced with the prospect of even thinking about her mother she ran, had gone on running all her life and used whatever excuse she could. Astoria. Her father. That's all they were, excuses. The only reason Daphne had never faced up to it was because she had been scared it would hurt too much. But hadn't he done the same? Hadn't he run from Ginny and all that pain and torment? And hadn't the only thing that had helped him come out the other side been Eliza? He never talked about his sessions with her, but Daphne had seen the miracles that woman had worked on Harry. What was to say talking wouldn't help Daphne? There were few people she would rather tell.

"I think you'd have liked her," Daphne began staring at the floor as she did so, picturing the woman that had meant so much to her and always would. "She was amazing, smart, and funny. I mean, she could be a little bit too soft on us sometimes too. Dad had to be the one to lay the law down when got home. Not that he was ever any good at it."

"I can't imagine he would be," Harry said a smile in his voice. "He didn't really seem the type."

"He really isn't, I mean he'd try and make himself all stern and professional, but mum would just laugh at him. Kind of ruined the effect, really. They were never any good at that stuff. We probably ran them a bit wild, to be honest. But they didn't never complained or anything. It was great. I never thought it'd be over and then it just… was. I mean you hear about that kind of thing, but I never even imagined it'd happen to us. It's just always something that happened to other people, you know?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded sadly.

"It wasn't even as if there was anything we could've done," Daphne continued, "They never spotted it, I mean she'd had headaches and stuff but all the potions they gave her just dulled the pain so much that we didn't even notice it get worse."

"What was it?"

"Brain tumour," Daphne answered, knowing that she wouldn't need to say anything else. Harry knew exactly what those words meant, unlike almost everyone else that knew the story. Everyone had needed it explaining to them. Friends, family, none of them had known when it had happened. That had been one of the worst parts, explaining it over and over again. Unlike muggles, purebloods knew nothing about it. If anything they had viewed it as wrong for a woman of 'her standing' to die in such a way. That had always disgusted Daphne, the arrogance of it all. Even in death they couldn't get past their stupid preconceptions.

"I've never had anything hurt that much," Daphne confessed, her voice hollow as she remembered the heartbreak, the tragic sense of loss that she had never been able to escape no matter how much and how far she had run. "And I'm always scared, that I'm going to feel that again. I mean, look at you, with your honesty and your patience and your… and your kindness. Right now, you're a great friend and one that I never thought I'd have. But one day, that's all going to be gone and there's nothing we can do to stop it. Nothing. I just, I don't want to feel that way again."

"There is one thing you can do," Harry told her moving a little, pulling from her slightly so that his face was level with her hers. His emerald eyes fixed on her own, so full of pain and sorrow and understanding. "Don't focus on what's going to be, focus on what is, right now. Sure, you can obsess over what's coming, close yourself off from everyone because you're too scared to let them get close; because one day the memory of them might hurt so much you feel like you can't even breathe. Believe me, I know that feels. But if you do that, you're just existing, not living. A very old friend told me once not to pity the dead but to pity the living. And above all, to pity those who live without love. You know what? He was right. Life without love is no life at all and it was worth all the pain in the world to cherish the moments you have with the people you care about."

"You really believe that?"

"Yeah, I do. Wouldn't still be here if I didn't." Harry answered with a small smile. Despite herself, Daphne felt a grin pull at her lips. Harry had a way of doing that to her. No matter how dark her mood, somehow he always managed to lift it. In that moment Daphne realised just how lucky she was to have him in her life. Daphne was well aware that she wasn't the easiest person to get along with, but for whatever reason, Harry had stayed by her side.

"Thank you," Daphne said softly the smile never leaving her lips. She hoped he would understand just what those words meant. It wasn't just a 'thank you' for what he had just done and said. But rather for the role he had come to play in her life.

"For what?"

"Being you," Daphne told him almost laughing at the clueless look on his face as he stared back at her. "For being here. For listening to me. All of it."

"Always," Harry promised. "Besides, you'd do the same for me."

"Always," Daphne copied with a sincerity that almost took her by surprise. But she meant it, truly and as Daphne looked back into his emerald green eyes, she knew he did too.


	12. New Beginnings

**AN: Hey guys, so first off sorry for how long this has taken. Life has been ridiculously hectic lately and I've had pretty much no free time, but it's finally done and I hope you all like it! I'd also like to say thank you for my beta for helping me with this chapter!**

Chapter Twelve: "New Beginnings"

After a long week of stares, hushed whispers and blatant questioning, Daphne was finally allowed to get back to her life as the _Daily Prophet_ and the rest of the Wizarding media got bored of running a story based purely on speculation and fiction. There was still the occasional passer-by who would recognise her, but for the most part Daphne was left alone. Her newfound isolation was helped, in no small part, by the beginning of the Quidditch World Cup. England, who had dumped their manager a few months before the tournament started thanks to a record breaking twelve international games without a win or a snitch caught, had suddenly found form going into the tournament. Without a manager and with confidence at an all-time low, they had turned to a supposedly 'unproven', yet eager Mike Sampson. The young Sampson, who had only previously been at the helm of Puddlemere United, had injected enthusiasm, confidence and a tactical brilliance that had missing from any England team since Daphne could remember. Perhaps the pinnacle of their new-found success had come at Sampson's final friendly before the tournament, 350-180 against Ireland. The resulting hysteria about realistic English hopes going into an international tournament meant that Daphne was able to show her face without cringing at the open gawking from people she barely knew.

Despite a return to normalcy for her in the Wizarding World, however, Daphne had developed a fondness for the various restaurants and pubs which she frequented with Harry on their various lunches. As such, when she was finally able to contact Tracey, their agreed meeting place was a small pub only a few miles from the centre of London. Daphne had been half-expecting an uphill struggle in actually managing to get Tracey out, mainly because Tracey had a habit of falling hard and fast for anyone she dated. It was one of the many ways in which the two friends were polar opposites, where Daphne knew she was guarded and probably difficult, Tracey had one of the biggest hearts Daphne had ever known. But this time, something seemed different. Instead of being withdrawn Tracey had excitedly snapped up Daphne's offer of a night out.

"You look nice," Daphne's father commented as she descended the stairs to the main hallway of Greengrass manor. He was standing with his back to the living room, leaning against the frame of the doorway with his hands in his pockets and a smile on his face. It was fast approaching seven o'clock but thanks to magical transportation and Tracey's habitual tardiness, Daphne wasn't too worried at the sight of the grandfather clock in the hall ticking down the last remaining seconds before it struck the hour. "Off anywhere special?"

"Thanks," Daphne smiled as she fiddled with the small and delicate and somehow incredibly stubborn emerald earring she was attempting to wear. Daphne never had been very good with jewelery, having avoided it almost her entire life. Dressing up and being ladylike were not areas where she was entirely talented or comfortable. Yet, when she had been getting ready the earrings had taken her eye. Daphne hadn't even looked at them for years, likely because they weren't actually hers but were inherited from her mother. The outfit, which had her father beaming at her, had simply followed. It was nothing special, a crimson blouse, coupled with a black skirt and matching heels that Daphne had forgotten she owned. But, after critiquing her reflection for longer than she cared to admit, she couldn't help, even if a little half-heartedly, agreeing with her father's verdict.

"Just out with Tracey," she continued, when she had finally managed to master the fiddly earring. "Thought she could do with it."

There was no need to actually mention why she needed it. After having learned about Adam's atrocious behaviour at the wedding, Daphne's father had needed some calming down. Although, the details of just what Daphne had done to the little worm had helped.

"Well, I hope you girls have a good time," Daphne's father said happily. "Merlin knows you both deserve it."

"What about you, doing anything fun?" Daphne asked as she quickly double checked that she had the correct money in her bag. One of the first times she had gone out with Harry, Daphne had forgotten to put the Muggle money she had withdrawn from Gringotts in her purse and then wondered why the waitress had refused to accept the galleons Daphne offered her. At least Harry had had the decency not to laugh, at least whilst the waitress was in earshot anyway.

"Apart from deciding what books to set for next year, not really. McGonagall wants us all to send her a list so as she can approve them. Who said teachers get holidays?"

"Not teachers?" Daphne's replied as she opened the cupboard under the stairs and selected a coat from the many stored on the rail. Most of them belonged to Astoria, who had a habit of owning more clothes than she was ever going to need. "Why don't you do what everyone else does? Just pick the same ones as last time."

"Because that's boring, and I mean really boring. Do you know how dull it gets having to read thirty essays on the same book? Try doing that year after year. So, I've got my new topics sorted, just need to find the books now."

"Well, you have fun with that." Daphne said, shaking head slightly at the excitable grin pulling on her father's lips. Despite his complaining and moaning he enjoyed teaching. Knowing him he would happily sit up until the early hours of the morning surrounded by stacks of books until he found the right ones. Usually he would clear out a space in the living room, sit in the centre of the room and then create a circle of books around himself until he found the one he wanted. Apparently it helped him think. Daphne just thought it made him look ridiculous. After the book was selected, he would discard the others and start the process again for the next year until each core textbook was chosen. It was a sight to behold and most definitely more of a spectator sport than a participatory one - there was no way in hell Daphne would ever join in. The chaos of it all was enough to drive her insane.

"And you with Tracey, send her my love."

"I will," Daphne smiled as she slipped on her coat, gave her father a quick hug and a kiss before heading out into the warm summer night. The sun had long since started dipping towards the horizon, but unlike the winter months the sky was still bathed with warm light. The white clouds tinged with red as the day began to fade into night. This, Daphne knew, was why she preferred the summer. She had never liked the dark, especially as a child. But instead of having her mood dampened by the gloom of the night, Daphne couldn't help but smile as she headed down the path of her front garden. Veritable seas of reds, oranges and yellows filled the various flowerbeds her mother had always so lovingly cared for. It was a passion Daphne's father had carried on with vigour, despite never having had much love for gardening. All of her favourite flowers were there, married happily with his.

The sun still shone miles from the Greengrass household, a fact which Daphne soon came to appreciate as she appeared from thin air in an alleyway a short distance from the pub in which she had agreed to meet Tracey. Having had a half-blood for a best friend during her formative years meant Daphne, unlike so many other purebloods, was well aware of how to fit into the Muggle world. No heads turned as she stepped out of the alleyway and headed towards the large brick building which sat at the end of the road. Large golden letters above the main entrance read: _The Red Lion._ Orange light shone from every window. Outside there were small clusters of people, some smoked whilst others held drinks and chatted in the warmth of the night.

The inside of the pub was similar to any other Daphne had visited: warm orange light, a deep red carpet and neutral coloured walls with a few pictures here and there so each wall was not too bland. The warmth of the night meant that most of the patrons were sitting out at the back of the pub where there were a variety of tables and chairs, all of different sizes so as to accommodate varying numbers of people. A gentle background chatter, mixed with the occasional sounds of laughter greeted Daphne as she entered. Somewhere someone dropped a glass, and there was a cheer from a few men by the bar who looked so accustomed to their surroundings that they were actually starting to blend into them.

"Can I help you?" An annoyingly helpful and chirpy voice asked as the patrons at the bar went back to their drinks and idle conversation after the brief interruption. The voice came from a face of a young girl dressed all in black with a towel sticking out of her trouser pocket. It was not so much how this girl, for she was far too young to be described as a woman, spoke that grated on Daphne. What annoyed her the most was the grin which had been plastered on this girl's face; no doubt in the name of good customer service. It was the kind of smile which was either the sign of a liar or a moron. No-one with any degree of sanity, Daphne thought, remembering the vile Christmas where she had worked at the Leaky Caldron after having left Hogwarts and before she became an unspeakable, could be that cheerful in a job that low paying and menial.

"I've got a table booked," Daphne told the girl not bothering to respond with a smile of her own. "It's under the name of Greengrass."

"You're on table three, if you'd like to follow me?" the girl said refusing to let her smile falter under Daphne's gaze as she led the way towards a round empty table situated by the large window to the left of the bar.

Daphne knew that she shouldn't be so rude, as the girl was only doing her job. The fact that it was all an act, one big lie which everyone bought into and was all too familiar to the sanctimonious pureblood families and relatives she had known growing up, grated on her. But, recognizing from her own experience that it wasn't the girl's fault, Daphne offered a very forced smile as reached her table, and did her best to be polite as she gave her order for drinks.

True to form Tracey didn't arrive for another fifteen minutes. Daphne had long since ordered their drinks and was idly flipping through the leather bound menu, debating whether or not to have a starter when Tracey appeared.

"Sorry, sorry," Tracey said quickly as she sat down. "I did try and be on time I promise. It's just as I was trying to leave Hoskins called me into his office. I tried to explain that I'd already got plans but he insisted, good thing too because, well, Daph you know that promotion I've been going for? I actually got it. Me! I couldn't believe it! "

"I knew you would!" Daphne beamed. Tracey had been working so hard and for so long, watched the promotions go to the undeserving and the healers with the right surname. Either them or healers who were so totally useless that they were promoted out of where they were so as they became someone else's problem. Daphne could think of a few examples of healers who she was sure shouldn't be allowed to practice but instead of being sacked were instead given a nice desk job and a pay rise. _Out of sight, out of mind._

"Thanks, I just, I can't get my head round it. I've been working at it for so long and now it's finally here, I don't know. It's weird. Guess it hasn't sunk in yet. I'm going to be running my own ward, Daph. Me."

"Where have they put you in charge of?"

"Spell damage," Tracey replied unable to lose her smile of disbelief. Daphne had long since given up trying to understand why Tracey's confidence about her abilities was so low. Time and time again she would prove to herself and everyone else around her that she was a talented witch and an amazing healer. Yet, no matter how much praise she received, Tracey refused to believe that she was anything special despite the overwhelming evidence to the contrary. "Jackson is retiring in a few weeks, so I'm going to be shadowing him until then to get to grips with what he does and that kind of thing."

"So is that less work than you've been doing lately?"

"Seeing as he only does a four day week, yeah, although I'll still be doing shifts on diseases but only one or two a week. I can actually sleep for a change, that's going to be amazing. I haven't slept properly for months. The amount of times I've had split shifts in the middle of the day, who does that? How am I supposed to sleep for three hours and then be back in again?"

"That's cut backs for you," Daphne muttered darkly. "We're just the same. They scrapped three projects last week. Luidhard's itching to do the same to mine."

"Why hasn't he? I thought you were on your final warning or something?"

"I was," Daphne admitted. Thanks to the complexity of time-turners and the ambitious nature of her project, tests, results (and the associated estimated cost) hadn't been going her way. Had she been anyone else, Daphne was more than aware that she would have given up by now. But she wasn't, and as a result she had refused to let one project beat her, no matter how much Luidhard wanted it to.

"So, what happened?"

"I solved it, well half of it. I still haven't got a clue about the going backwards in time bit, I think the capsule is just too small. Every time I've tried it was too unstable, so I think we're just going to have to stick to a few hours, a day max. But that wasn't really what I was interested in. It was more going forwards. No-one has ever been able to do and everyone else who's tried either ended up dead because they used themselves as a test subject or failed completely."

"No offense, but then how did you manage it?" Tracey asked frowning a little at her friend completely ignoring her drink as she became slowly engrossed in Daphne's story.

"It was weirdly quite simple in the end," Daphne started, "instead of travelling through time, like every other time turner does, what actually works is travelling outside of time."

"Sorry, what? You've kind of lost me a little bit there."

"You know how the body-bind freezes you, this is kind of the same principle. But instead of being frozen in space, the time-turner generates a field which will then freeze you in time. Time can't penetrate that field and so basically you travel into the future while remaining frozen, exactly where you were. You see, although you'd still be a mass, you'd no longer be an event in space-time, and therefore you'd become a non-event mass with a quantum probability of zero."

"How," Tracey said eventually after staring into space for a long moment, desperately trying to follow what Daphne had just said. It was the same face Luidhard had had the first time Daphne had explained it to him too, and a small smirk pulled at the edges of her lips that time too. "Did you even come up with that?"

"Well the physics of it all I came across in some muggle books I bought last week and combined with some of the magical books. Mind you most of them weren't any good, I mean I could write better myself. But I suppose what made think of it was when the paper came out with that stuff about mum, and I talked to Harry." Daphne paused at this point, expecting Tracey to say something, but instead her friend just nodded as if she wasn't even surprised. "I told him everything, what happened, how we tried, how I tried, all of it. I've never really told anyone about it, except you and dad. Tori doesn't know half of what went on and to be honest Trace I don't want her to. She was too young and she loves our family, Merlin only knows why, but I can't be the one to take that away from her. I just can't."

"I know," was all Tracey could say. It was all she had to say. After all, she'd been there, seen what had happened and heard the stories of what she had missed. No-one knew more about it than Tracey, no-one. This wasn't a new conversation for her, if anything it was one of the oldest ones the two had had together.

"Anyway," Daphne continued not wanting to dwell again on times gone by, "I was telling him how I'd felt, how when it all happened the only thing I wanted was for the world to stand still to give me chance to grieve, or get myself together or whatever. The point is, that I wanted to time to stand still and that got me thinking what if I could somehow make someone freeze while time carried on around them. It's just the same problem but with a new perspective."

"And that works?"

"Yeah," Daphne nodded grinning. It was relief to finally say that out loud. There were still several trials to go through, but the first few had been successes. "I mean, we haven't tested it on anything biological yet but I don't see why it shouldn't work."

"Guess we've both got something to celebrate then," Tracey beamed.

"I guess we do," Daphne smiled back. After everything that had happened at the wedding, Daphne had half been expecting her friend to be miserable or at least need cheering up. Instead, she found her happy, smiling and content with life. For once, Daphne was delighted to be wrong. "What're you having anyway?"

"What? There's food?"

"Yeah, why do you think I was reading a menu?"

"I didn't notice, I got a bit carried with exciting news and feeling bad for being late." Tracey explained before hastily picking up a menu and hurriedly scanning it.

It took Tracey almost a full five minutes to make up her mind and the waitress two attempts to get their order due to Tracey needing more time. When it came to food, decisions were not Tracey's strong suit, especially when everything on the menu sounded delicious. Not only that, but after a short wait, Daphne realised that it tasted as amazing as it had promised.

"Did I tell you that Adam tried to come crawling back the other day?" Tracey asked as she spun her spaghetti around her fork.

"You're kidding?" Daphne demanded the forkful of pie that had been halfway to her mouth descending rapidly back to her plate as Daphne stared at her best friend. "After what that pathetic excuse for a man did, he seriously thought he'd try and get back with you?"

"Technically we never split up," Tracey admitted. "I couldn't bring myself to do it, he's got this way of just being able to, I don't know, guilt-trip me I suppose. I'd tried to a few weeks ago, before the wedding and everything."

"But I thought that you said it was going great?" Daphne asked. Tracey had raved about him, it was the main reason that why, when Daphne actually met him, she had reacted as badly as she had. There no mention of her being unhappy and Daphne hadn't seen her friend enough to know if that had been a lie or not. Apparently it had been the former.

"He did," Tracey corrected, "I'd just tried to convince myself that he was right and that we should give it another go, but it wasn't. I guess I was just got so sick of every other relationship I've ever had failing that, I don't know, I just thought I had to give him another chance. He'd said he'd never been happier and that he didn't want to lose that. Honestly Daph you should have seen him, it would've been like kicking a puppy. But as the weeks went on it felt like I was living someone else's life, like I was out of it and just going through the motions. That's the only way I can explain it."

"Merlin, Trace are you alright?"

"Yeah, I mean sort of. I'm fine now most of the time. It's still a bit… fresh."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Daphne asked. It wasn't as if she wouldn't have been there for Tracey. After everything they'd been through Tracey knew that. So why hadn't she come to Daphne for help? For someone to talk to, anything.

"Because until the wedding I'd been convincing myself there wasn't anything wrong, that it was just a phase or that we just needed more time. But after what he did at the wedding and talking to Harry about it all, it gave me a new perspective on the whole thing. It was like I could actually see how he'd been treating me that whole time. After that I didn't want to talk to him, I couldn't let him manipulate me into taking him back again."

"Then after a few days you giving him the cold shoulder he tried it anyway?" Daphne said piecing together the missing pieces from the story. She couldn't quite believe what Adam had put Tracey through, and preferred not thinking about what might have happened had she been with him any longer. He sounded as if he was a few chasers short of a Quidditch team at best. At worst, he might be a complete psycho who was incredibly lucky that Daphne didn't know where he lived. The very thought of someone attempting to manipulate anyone like that, let alone her best friend, made her genuinely consider a one-way ticket to Azkaban.

"Yep, worst of it was that he'd only been to my flat once and even then we'd apparated."

"What a stalker," Daphne exclaimed, empathy mingling with the shock in her voice.

"You're telling me," Tracey said darkly her fork, like Daphne's, lay forgotten on her plate. "I couldn't get over it at first, him just standing there, begging to have me back. He was lonely, his life was empty without me, and that he loved me so much and he'd never hurt me. All that crap."

"What did you do?" Daphne asked painfully aware of the hurt in her friend's voice. Tracey had fallen, and fallen hard. Pain was pretty much guaranteed if things went wrong, no matter how many times Tracey exposed herself it still cut just as deeply.

"I just slammed the door in his stupid face," Tracey answered with a simple shrug. "What? It's not like I could do anything else. He would've stood there all day, trust me. I couldn't be dealing with it and besides, I didn't want to let him back in again. He just does that to me, you know? Makes me feel like I'm the bad guy, for just wanting to be happy. So I flooed dad and asked him to come round, that soon got rid of him."

"An auror showing up generally does do that to people," Daphne commented, remembering the various times Astoria had bought boys home only for them to turn a comical shade of white under her father's piercing stare. Malfoy had always been that pale so Daphne had never quite been sure if it had had the same effect on him.

"Especially when he threatens to arrest them for stalking, yeah," Tracey agreed. "Mind you, it wasn't fun having to explain to dad what had happened. Took him a bit to realise that I hadn't just been lying to him, don't think he quite got that I'd been kidding myself too."

"Least it's over now," Daphne said trying to inject some positivity into the conversation, partly to try and cheer up friend but also because she had no experience with which to offer any advice. It was always the same, she would do her best, but ultimately Daphne didn't really have a clue what to say. Sure, she'd had relationships but they had never been serious enough to care about and they had never ended in crisis or anything like that.

"Definitely, if he thinks there's even a chance of us getting back together then he's got another thing coming." There was a brief pause as the bitterness of her words lingered in the air. "Sorry, we're meant to be celebrating."

"Then let's celebrate, screw him! He's spoilt enough, don't let him spoil your promotion too." Daphne said raising her glass. "To new beginnings."

"New beginnings," Tracey echoed finishing the toast with a clink of their glasses, and a smile on her face.

oOo

The night went fairly quickly after that, the two women enjoying one another's company until the late hours of the evening when the landlord rang for last orders. Unlike the last few times that she had gone out with Tracey, Daphne didn't require any hangover cures the next morning, primarily thanks to the fact that once they got back onto the topic of Tracey' promotion she went into detail about what all her new responsibilities would entail. The drink in her hand went completely forgotten, a fact which Daphne was grateful for. Waking up with a splitting headache, grogginess and a general desire to skip work and never leave her bed again wasn't Daphne's idea of fun.

So when the sunlight filtered into her room the next morning, Daphne rose with relative ease, showered, dressed and headed out to work. Annoyingly, she could not actually conduct the various experiments that she was directing herself now that her theory had to be proven. Instead she was relegated to sitting on the side-lines, biting at her nails and desperately trying to resist the urge to take over by force. She knew why they had to do it, after all Daphne had been involved in several similar experiments herself. That didn't mean she had to like it. But it was the only way to make sure that all results were correct and above suspicion and potentially offer fresh eyes if they were wrong. Her role was purely advisory. Luckily for Daphne the precise, methodical and professional Miller was the one who had been chosen to test Daphne's theory after some positive results of her own.

"I could have done this myself," Daphne muttered darkly as she watched Miller carefully strap the prototype time-turner around the stunned rabbit, which only ten minutes before had been an ink-well. The rest of the morning had been spent familiarising Miller with the work, which had gotten an 'impressive' from the egotistical unspeakable, and then running similar tests to the ones which Daphne had done before reporting the success of her work. The various inanimate objects they had tested the time-turner on had all vanished only to reappear moments later, then minutes later and then a slightly nerve-wracking hour later. They had been observed through each experiment by a variety of different unspeakables, primarily the senior members and Luidhard, from behind a glass screen in the wall which was protected by all manner of charms and wards. It was more of a safety precaution than anything else, ever since a previous unspeakable had accidentally blown up whatever he had been working on and almost fatally injured three people. Now the only people who would be injured were Miller and Daphne, and even then help would be quickly brought to them by the unspeakables in the other room.

"I agree," Miller said as he pulled his wand from the back pocket of his black jeans. A quick flick later and the rabbit sprang back to consciousness, pawed at the thing around its neck with mild curiosity, lost interest and started hopping around the floor with the quizzical attitude of an ink-well which has suddenly discovered it has legs, a sense of smell and a new found purpose in life other than holding ink. "You are an extremely competent unspeakable."

"Extremely competent?" Daphne asked arching an eyebrow as the rabbit bounded happily about the floor of the office. Little did it know that it was about to be the first creature in history to travel to the future without accidentally exploding, splitting in half or never being seen again. If it did, it probably wouldn't have been quite so cheerful.

"It was a compliment," Miller informed her as he scooped up the rabbit and slung an old golden watch around the rabbit's neck. The creature fidgeted, clearly unhappy with this development. Miller then checked his own, making sure that they were running at exactly the same time. If it worked, when the rabbit reappeared his watch should be exactly one minute behind Miller's. If it didn't work...well if it didn't work, a watch reading the wrong time would be the least of their problems.

"I think you need to brush up on your definition of 'compliment',"

"A polite expression of praise or admiration," Miller intoned as if from memory. "I'm quite aware."

"And you think that was admiration?"

"Admiration is all a matter of perspective," Miller countered as gently held the rabbit in place before pulling out the pin on the side of the time-turner. Where normal time-turners were spun to be activated this one had dual functions and, as such, required two systems of operation. One full turn of the dial was an hour, it was only a prototype after all. After a tiny adjustment Miller pushed the pin back in. There was a pause, then a small pop and the rabbit vanished.

"Excellent," Miller assessed happily. "Now let's just hope it doesn't explode."

"It won't," Daphne said with as much confidence as she could muster. Despite knowing that her theory was good, it was sound, she couldn't shake the nerves that fought inside her stomach. It was now or never. If this failed her project would be over. If it succeeded then it would be simply a case of improving on her work, or even passing it on to others so as the time-turners could be restored with the new model. There was no way to know what would happen, mainly because no-one had given her any chance of actually succeeding. Well, she would show them. It just had to bloody work.

"I hope not, I imagine Angus would be a tad upset."

"Angus?"

"The rabbit," Miller explained as if it was obvious.

"You named it Angus?" Daphne asked, slightly stunned by the sudden revelation.

"Yes, I was going to call him Clyde but that named seemed more appropriate for a turtle."

"Why did you name the rabbit?" Daphne inquired her mind no longer obsessing over the result of the latest test but instead wondering why on earth Miller would name a random rabbit, given his reputation as a man with no emotional attachment to people let alone animals.

"I got bored of calling them test subjects," Miller shrugged, the tattoos on his arms swirling a rhythmically as he did so. "It happens."

"How long did you set the field for?" Daphne asked as her eyes turned back to the empty space where the rabbit should have been. How long had been? Ten seconds? Thirty? She could feel her heart, pumping faster and faster. It was irrational, she knew it. Every test so far had worked, just because they were adding a biological component shouldn't make any difference. But what if it did? What if she'd overlooked something? Daphne didn't doubt herself very often, she couldn't afford to. But every time, in the moment between theory and fact, a tiny voice at the back of her mind would whisper all the 'what ifs' that she had buried back there.

"A minute," Miller replied checking his watch. "Should be back -"

There was a faint pop.

"Now." Miller finished as the rabbit reappeared. It sat there for a moment, as if somehow slightly stunned by what had just happened before it went back to playing with time-turner around its neck. It bounced against the golden watch, the sound breaking the silence in the room. Daphne stared at it, unsure how to react. She was unaware that she had stopped breathing, the moment she had been waiting for had finally happened. But instead of joy or jubilation Daphne felt nothing, shock dampening her senses.

"It worked?" Daphne asked tentatively as Miller examined the rabbit, first casting a cursory diagnosis check with his wand before scooping up the small animal and comparing his watch with his own.

"It would seem so," Miller confirmed. Behind the protective glass there was a lot of muttering and conferring, but Daphne didn't notice. All she could notice was Angus, the rabbit, the first time-traveller to venture to the future squirm in Miller's arms. She was aware of the sound of laughter and it took Daphne a moment to realise it was her own. A rare smile graced Miller's tight face. It had worked. It had actually worked. Months of planning, tinkering and a lot of cursing all suddenly seemed worth it.

There would be more tests, there always were with these kinds of things. Prove beyond doubt, test on human subjects and then what? A decision would be made, one which Daphne knew she would have no part in affecting. Sometimes these things were stored in the Department of Mysteries itself, kept safe and secure from the rest of the world. Other times, like when the time-turner had first been discovered they were produced, albeit on a limited scale. There would time later, Daphne realised as the door opened and people started to congratulate her, for those questions. In that moment, all Daphne could focus on was the fact that her project, experimental and apparently doomed from the start according to more than one 'experienced' unspeakable, had worked.

The half an hour or so before lunch passed in a blur for Daphne. Miller insisted that he was more than able to proceed without her, as the rest of the tests would be along the same vein but with more time elapsing with each one, although he promised to fetch her if anything went wrong. The news passed around the department quicker than Daphne had expected, meaning that the process of leaving took a lot longer than usual as she was stopped by a few of the unspeakables desperate to give her their congratulations. The nature of their work meant that trial and error was a large part, success was rare and as a result celebrated.

Daphne was able to escape the last of the congratulations a few minutes after she had agreed to meet Harry. She'd been forced to cancel on him two days earlier, thanks to the revelation that her work was under threat and that she needed to either prove it or give it up. Their meeting was therefore planned either a celebration or a commiseration; luckily for Harry it was the former. Daphne had never been any good at dealing with failure. Success on the other hand, she could enjoy. It didn't take her long to leave the Ministry, the lift having been mercifully empty when she entered it, and as soon as she had and the sunlight kissed her face she took out her wand, turned on the spot and vanished.

There was the familiar sensation and then she stood on the doorstep to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place. Despite it being an English summer, the sun shone brightly in the relatively cloudless sky as Daphne pulled back the knocker. A couple walked by as she did, a tiny dog running happily along in front of them. Neither of them looked at Daphne, and in fact they didn't even notice she was there. Whatever privacy wards were set up around the house were very good.

"Sorry I'm late," Daphne said as soon as Harry had opened the door. He was wearing a pale blue shirt, which hung open to reveal a t-shirt for a band Daphne didn't recognise. A familiar smile pulled at his lips as his eyes fell on her, it was the same smile he always wore when they saw one another, as if somehow seeing her brightened his day.

"It's fine, that's why we switched to here, remember?" Harry shrugged as he allowed Daphne entrance to his home. The switch had been his idea, after Daphne had explained about the rigorous testing that the department would put her worth through Harry had suggested that they just have lunch at his place. It was more convenient after all, and it had saved any potential waiting around that he could have endured.

"How'd it go?" Harry asked almost as soon as the door had shut behind her. They headed down the hall, Harry seemingly unable to hold his questions in, "was it good? Bad?"

"It works," Daphne told him simply as she hung up her robe on the coat stand which was filled with Harry's various jackets and coats. "Sure, they've still got some tests to run but basically, it works."

"Brilliant! Congratulations!" Harry beamed. "I mean, I'm not surprised or anything, I knew it would. But that's great, well done, Daph, seriously. I know it's been tough."

"Thank you," Daphne smiled, a sense of warmth washing over her at his words. During all the congratulations and the celebrations in the department, Daphne had been unable to focus on what was said to her, partly because she had still been in a degree of shock, but mainly because they weren't the people she wanted to share it with. Not really. That list was incredibly exclusive, Harry, Tracey, Astoria and her father. It wasn't that she hadn't appreciated it, she had. But there was a difference between sharing it with colleagues and sharing it with friends. The happiness in Harry's eyes wasn't because of the academic importance of her work, instead it was because it was genuinely for her and her alone.

"Any time, so what have they got left to do? Just carry on proving it?" Harry asked as he led the way down into the kitchen. The memory of the last time that they had descended these steps rose to the surface of Daphne's mind. Then they had barely known one another, he had been something new, different, an unexpected anomaly. Now he was so much more, a friend, one which Daphne had never once imagined she would have but was immensely glad that she did.

"Essentially, but we ran tests on biological subject, a rabbit. That was the variable that we were unsure on, whether the process would harm biological tissue or prove to be disorientating for those who actually used it. But Angus was fine."

"Angus?"

"The rabbit," Daphne explained as Harry's face mirrored her own earlier confusion. "Miller named it, why Merlin only knows. But the signs were encouraging."

"Sounds like they were more than encouraging," Harry pointed out as they entered the kitchen. Daphne was about to continue their conversation, but her train of thought was completely side-tracked by the smell that hit her. Any attempts at cooking that she understood usually ended with the smell of burning, it was part of why she practically lived on take-out food. But this, this was incredible.

"What is that? It smells amazing."

"Lasagne, thought I'd make an effort considering." Harry told her. "Should be almost ready actually."

"I didn't know you could cook," Daphne admitted as she took on a seat at the dining table. "Where'd you learn?"

"My aunt and uncle used to make me cook their breakfasts," Harry told her as he pulled open the oven door, before taking out his wand and levitating the dish from inside onto the counter. "But it was mainly after Hogwarts, this was when I'd started training for being an auror. I always found it quite hard to wind down. It was strange, I'd be tired and somehow wide awake all at the same time. I'd always have to cook anyway, you know what the hours are like, and once I'd started just seemed to relax me, I've carried on ever since."

"Get you," Daphne smirked as he began to serve the meal onto the plates that he had left ready on the side.

"It's nothing amazing or anything," Harry shrugged.

"I'm sure it tastes wonderful," Daphne told him. A shy smile pulled at his lips but he said nothing, instead preferring to focus on the food he had spent so long preparing. Harry, Daphne knew, had a slight issue with accepting compliments. Nothing that made him neurotic or anything like that, but it was enough for her notice. It had hardly surprised her, despite all of Malfoy's twaddle about him being a glory hunter, the Harry Potter that Daphne had seen at school had always seemed shy. Even in the aftermath of the war, Harry had never taken any of the praise, instead giving it to those who had died or the friends that had stood by him. Daphne had barely given it thought at the time, but now that she knew the man behind the legend she could see that it was more than simply survivor's guilt or a desire to commemorate the lost.

Just as Daphne predicted the food was incredible, a fact which she told Harry on more than one occasion during the meal. The same shy smile graced his features, each and every single time. It was astonishingly endearing. Daphne had never met anyone quite like Harry, he was kind, caring, and perhaps on occasion a little world-weary, but after everything that he had endured who could blame him?

The meal was nice, having had to deal with the stress of experiments, Luidhard and potential failure, it was rather relaxing to simply sit down and talk with her friend, especially considering that they talked about nothing important. Daphne had always found that talking with other people, be they from her house at school or at large functions, involved important matters, current affairs or other high-brow and equally boring things. Yet, with Harry she could just be herself and talk about nothing or complain about Luidhard and get excited about the Quidditch World Cup. The minutes passed as if they were seconds, and before too long, Daphne realised that she was going to have to cut the conversation off before she ended up never going back to work.

"I'd better get going," she said, a little sadness in her heart as she did so. "Before anyone notices how long I've been gone."

"Before you do, I was wondering are you free next weekend?" Harry asked quickly as they both got to their feet. "Only, Hermione's asked me round for a birthday thing and wondered if you wanted to come?"

"But that means I have to buy you a present," Daphne joked, smirking as she did so.

"You don't have to do that," Harry said quickly.

"I'm only joking, I was going to anyway." Daphne told him, "No, it'd be nice, I'd love to come."

"Really?"

"Yeah, why not? After all, you've met my friends, about time I met yours." Daphne said voicing a fact which she had felt slightly guilty for ever since the wedding. She knew just how much his friends meant to him, they were the family that he had never been able to have. It was clear by how he always talked about them, the stories, but most of all the fondness that filled his words whenever he mentioned them. It was the same way which Daphne knew she talked about her sister or Tracey.

"As long they'll be okay with it?" Daphne asked, genuine concern tinging her words. A slightly anxious nervousness pulled at the pit of her stomach as she looked at him. The opinion of his friends, Daphne knew, would matter to him. Vane's article had revealed one thing; that while she and Harry had forgotten house lines, there were those who had not. Would his friends fall into that group? What if they did? What then? Daphne knew that she was being stupid, but the age old fear that had made her want to cut herself off from any friends for fear of losing them was one which, no matter how much she tried to shake off she couldn't. It was always there. Irrational and unwanted but powerful nonetheless.

"They'll be fine, Daph, don't worry about it. Not like we're at school anymore."

"No," Daphne agreed, "we're not."

"Besides, you're great, how could they hate you?"

"Well, when you put it like that," Daphne smiled, aware that her cheeks had flushed a little at his unexpected words.

"I don't know a time or anything yet," Harry told her, "Hermione's trying to see if she can get Luna to come but what with her travelling all the time we're not sure if she'll be around. But I'll let you know if that's okay?"

"That's fine, I should be free all day I think."

"Great," Harry said happily before quickly adding, "sorry, I should let you back to work."

"Probably, I'll see you soon," Daphne said before him a quick hug, taking a handful of floo powder and throwing it into the fire. Had she looked round she would have noticed the smile spread across his face, as it was all Daphne saw was the emerald flames flare up around her before she vanished from the kitchen of Grimmauld Place.


	13. Back to Work

**AN: Hope you all like this, just wanted to say thank you everyone for all your reviews. Really appreciate the support and love for this story!**

Chapter Thirteen: Back to Work

The week before his birthday celebration passed relatively quickly for Harry. Despite not being back at work, he had come to enjoy the freedom that time off gave him. Not only was his life no longer under constant danger, he could also see who he wanted and do as he pleased. It made for a nice change from having to cancel on everyone he loved and cared for because of the job. Ginny had been right about one thing, he had never been there. His engagement had fallen apart before his eyes and he had been too busy to notice. The thought of Ginny always made his stomach twist with regret and guilt, mixed only with a hint of anger. _Why was it always a mixture?_ Harry asked himself as he sat staring at the plain and supposedly soothing tones of Eliza's waiting room.

A few months ago the wait would have upset him, made him question why the hell he was there and become ever more upset and annoyed at the Ministry for forcing him to jump through all those hoops. Over time, he'd come to appreciate how the therapy sessions had helped, more than he cared to admit and not in the way which he had first imagined. To begin with they had simply been a means to an end, a way for Harry to get back to his job and ignore the pain that tore his heart apart. But the longer he went and the more he spoke about and opened up to Eliza, telling her things he had never dreamed he would share with anyone, the more the end he was searching for became hazier. Harry was no longer desperate to return to the field, to ignore his past and the pain which haunted him. Those desires were gone, leaving only uncertainty and confusion in their wake.

A sudden movement attracted his eye, pulling his gaze from the wall before him and instead focusing it on the door to Eliza's office. Harry did his best not to stare at the couple that left there, more than aware himself how it felt to be gawked at, judged. Instead Harry got to his feet and busied himself with fastening his jacket, attempting to give the couple their privacy as best he could. Harry only moved when he heard the voice of Eliza's receptionist, taking that as his cue to enter the office.

"Good afternoon, Harry," Eliza greeted, a small, gentle and practiced smile pulling at her lips. Over the last few weeks Harry had come to realise that Eliza's face only ever betrayed what she wanted it to, often it exuded calmness, reassurance and above all it lacked judgement. Everything which Harry had told her, secrets, memories, even some of his insecurities had been greeted with understanding and patience. Initially he had seen it as some kind of technique, a way for her to get him on her side. But the longer Harry spent with her the more he didn't care if it was or wasn't, because either way Eliza wanted to help him rather than simply viewing him as a name on a sheet, a person to process and send on their way. It was part of why he hadn't returned to work. It wasn't because he wasn't fit, it was because the sessions helped him process the memories or a war and a childhood he had long since repressed.

"How are you today?" Eliza asked when Harry repeated the greeting and unbuttoned his jacket, throwing it over the back of the chair before he sat down.

"Good thanks," Harry replied honestly, "How about you? Busy day?"

"I'm fine, thank you for asking," Eliza answered, taking her own seat and crossing one leg over the other. The notebook she may have used for other patients lay unopened on the arm of her chair; a symbol of the trust they had built up. "As for my day, well, I'll let you know by the end."

"That bad, huh?"

"I've got a St. Mungo's inspector coming down to assess my progress," Eliza explained, "These sessions may be mandatory for aurors like yourself, but there are still those who are a little suspicious. But that is enough about me, today Harry, I would like to talk about your work, if that is alright?"

"Sure," Harry shrugged, settling down into his chair as he did, doing his best to relax.

"Would you mind telling me why you joined the aurors?" Eliza began, her voice light and calm. There was no pressure in it, no obvious need for Harry to talk. He knew from experience that this wasn't an act. There had been times and one specific memory which Harry had constantly avoided talking about, putting it off and off and whenever he had Eliza had never pressed him, simply moving onto another topic instead. Harry knew it was stupid, that he should talk about it. But he couldn't, even after all these years. He just didn't have the words. Nothing could do it justice or express the loss and the pain that he felt. Nothing. There would be enough words to tell her how much he missed the parents he never had and the anguish he felt whenever the memory the Dementors had forced on him resurfaced.

"I don't know really," Harry answered honestly after a moment. "I guess it first started when Mad-Eye, well Barty Crouch Junior really, said that I'd make a good one. After that I never really even thought about anything else."

"Do you enjoy it?" Eliza probed delicately.

Harry didn't answer immediately, his original answer dying on his lips as instead of just saying that he did, he really thought about the question. Did he enjoy it? Enjoy wasn't the right word. It was his job, and a dirty one at that. He'd lost Ginny, the Weasleys, the only family he'd ever known and for what? A job. But someone had to do it, it was a necessary evil. Dark wizards couldn't be allowed to roam free. Harry knew first-hand what they could do to people, the lives they could ruin. Someone had to step up and stop them. After the war, Harry had thrown himself into his work, protecting people and avoiding a pain which he knew would never heal. No-one understood, they always he'd just time, but how much time? The war had taken almost everything from him: his parents, Sirius, Remus. Everyone had moved on but him. Hermione, Ron, even Ginny. All of them. Sure, the war had ended but he hadn't stopped fighting, he'd just moved to the next one.

"I don't know," Harry began, "But someone's got to do it. I guess I'd just gotten used to that person always being me. And I know that's stupid, it's not a reason. But what I do it's important. The things I've seen, what people can be capable of, they can't be allowed to get away with it."

"Why is that, Harry?"

"Because I know what that's like, to have your life torn apart before you've even started living it. Days that should have been and never were. A future that never got lived. I had that taken from me, I didn't get a choice, no-one asked. You have no idea what that is like. None! And you're never going to." Harry paused for a moment, trying to keep his emotions in check. "But just because I had to live that life, it doesn't mean that anyone else has to."

"And being an auror is a way for you to ensure that," Eliza finished, it wasn't a question, rather a statement. He nodded anyway, confirming what she already knew. "Do you miss it?"

"What?"

"Your job," Eliza clarified, "do you miss it?"

"No," Harry answered after a long moment. It was true, he didn't miss it. The weeks after Ginny had left he tried to convince himself that he did, that if he could just get back into his work then everything would fix itself. But that wasn't true. The weeks, months that Eliza had forced him to have off of work had made him realise that. Instead of bemoaning missing his job, desperate to return, Harry had found himself enjoying his newfound free time. It allowed him more time to see Teddy, occasionally picking him up after school, as well seeing Ron and Hermione but most of all Daphne. It had taken Harry a long time to admit it to himself, perhaps longer than it should have done, but he truly loved the time that he spent with Daphne. It wasn't that he didn't look forward to seeing Ron or Hermione or anything like that, but it was somehow different with Daphne. Harry couldn't quite explain it, but what he did know was that he was always excited to see her, be it for five minutes or five hours. He enjoyed every minute he spent with her.

But if he went back to being an auror, to night-shifts, early mornings and the times where he could never return home as the case demanded all of his attention, then everything that Harry had come to love about his life would be gone. Being an auror wasn't just a job, it was a calling, it meant put everything else on hold and sacrificing more. In the beginning Harry had simply accepted that and drifted apart from his friends and simply thinking that they had just moved on with their lives as people did. Even Ginny leaving hadn't caused him to waver. But meeting Daphne, reconnecting with his friends and the people he loved, Harry had realised just much he had had to lose. He wasn't sure if he could give it up again.

"I like what I've got now," Harry continued, "Being an auror...it's all-consuming. You don't get to have a life, it's just how it is and thought I was juggling it fine, but even when I wasn't, somehow it didn't matter. I didn't mind. It felt right."

"And now?"

"Now? Now I'm not so sure," Harry answered. Being an auror still meant an incredible amount to him. It was a duty, his duty. After all the pain and all the torment that he had been through, the only way he'd been able to cope was promising himself that no-one else would have to suffer like he did. Not on his watch. It was a fire that had burned long and bright inside of him, but like every fire that burnt too bright it could so long. The toll had been crippling. Only now, after weeks, months of not being able to go back, Harry had been forced to see just what that duty had made him lose.

"Why?" Eliza asked, probing gently.

"Back then I was… hiding," Harry admitted, "Everyone just seemed to be getting on with their lives, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, everyone. And I… I couldn't. So I kept on fighting, I poured everything I had into it. Everything. Even when that wasn't enough. I've been fighting for so long, being that person, the man that everyone turns to, relies on. I didn't want to be. I never wanted to be. But I had to. All my life, whenever anything's gone wrong people have looked at me for answers. Ask Harry, he'll know what to do. After so long, I just, I couldn't be anything else. I didn't know how to. So kept on fighting, I kept on playing the hero.

"But being an auror, it wasn't just about that. It was, is, important. What they do, what they stand for. It's just, all this time off, it's made me think. I'm not sure if I can be the man that they need me to be anymore. They need you to give everything. Before, I don't know, that was okay. I hadn't had time to stop or think, I just went straight into it. But now, I've had time to think, and somehow this time it feels like I'd be giving up a new life to go back to my old one."

"I'm not going to lie to you, Harry," Eliza began leaning forward ever so slightly, her eyes fixing his. "That was exactly why I wanted to give you as much time as possible before broaching this subject. When you first came here, I saw a man who wanted to leap without thinking straight back into his work and use it as nothing more than a distraction. As you opened up to me about Ginny and what happened, it became clear that some of that was due to your work. I had hoped that with time you would understand the full extent what that life had done to you, and whether you actually wanted it back."

"I don't know," Harry admitted. It felt strange to be saying it out loud, as if he was finally admitting it to himself. He had tried his utmost not to think about it, ignoring the issue. Just like he always did. "I mean, it's important, being an auror. I don't think I can just walk away from it."

"But?" Eliza prompted when he didn't continue.

"But I don't want that life anymore," Harry answered, "The time you made me take - it's helped. Well, that and everything that's gone on. Before, I just wanted to go back. I didn't have a life, so it didn't bother me giving one up again. But now, I mean I've fixed things with Ron, I get to see Teddy more and it's great being able to see Daph so much. I guess, that's what started it. Meeting her. Somehow, I don't know, it feels like she's been the whole reason for this massive change."

"How so?"

"It was kind of small stuff at first," Harry explained, "just being able to see someone, anyone. Sure I still saw Teddy and Andromeda, but that was always at the end of the day and it started to feel like all I was doing was waiting around for that. Ron wasn't talking to me, I can't really blame him. I hated it. But I got it. He couldn't choose between me and her. And Hermione, well, she was always so busy. Still is. I guess, I felt alone. But then I met Daphne and she was just… different. For one thing she didn't judge me. Everyone else at the stupid party had. But not her. Not once. After that, I stopped hiding. I started talking to Ron and Hermione again, I even went to Malfoy's wedding."

He paused for a moment, the realisation of what his words meant hitting him like a bludger.

"She gave me a life to lose," Harry finished, his voice barely above a whisper. A sudden rush of confused emotions threatened to overcome him as he stared blankly at the far wall. The ghost of a smile pulled at his lips as the sudden of epiphany of just what Daphne had done for him crashed over him. Instead of being a recluse, shutting out the world that had caused him so much pain and heartbreak; Harry had branched out, rekindled the fires of his life. All because Daphne had taken a chance on him when Harry had least expected anyone to. In that moment, Harry knew that he had never been more grateful for what she had done.

"There are other alternatives," Eliza said, dragging Harry from his reverie. "You could take another career choice, or even change the role which you occupy now. There are other ways to help the aurors, Harry. You don't simply have to reassume the work which you did before. The choice, of course, is yours and I would never tell you what to do. But my advice, as your healer and as someone who wants only the best for you, would be to consider exactly what it is you need before you make any kind of choice."

Harry nodded, letting her words sink in. A few months ago, he would have ignored them and simply convinced himself that what he needed was work. But that felt like another lifetime, belonging to a man he barely recognised. The choice was no longer so black and white, but instead the grey had been allowed to seep in. While Harry could never truly walk away from the auror department, he knew that the life it forced him to lead was not healthy. It had been a sacrifice. Just like everything else in his life. He had carried on fighting, never considering the consequences. But perhaps it was time to stop fighting, and time to start living.

oOo

The Ministry was just like Harry remembered. Busy, filled with life and occasionally smelling of coffee as people on long shifts pushed past him. Unsurprisingly and rather annoyingly, instead of simply being able to walk in unnoticed, Harry had been forced to endure several pointed stares and sideways glances as he made his way to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Even when he had arrived there, the furtive looks remained, although for starkly different reasons. In the rest of the Ministry eyes were attracted to Harry because of his fame, whereas the men and women of his old department found themselves drawn to him because of his long absence and just what his reappearance might mean.

"I'd like to Mister Davis, please," Harry announced when he had approached the desk outside of Michael Davis's office. The desk was circular in shape, various stacks of paper piled in neat, carefully arranged stacks. Everything about it was organised. Even the quills were laid out in size order. Nelson Gibson, the junior assistant that Davis had drafted in to deal with the paperwork which flooded into his office every day, was anally-retentive to the extreme. It was why Davis had chosen him, Nelson thrived in the land of paperwork. Davis hated it and was more than happy to offload it, allowing him a slightly more hands on approach to dealing with the department than any other Department Head in the Ministry could have.

"Do you have an appointment?" Nelson Gibson asked in a slightly snappy tone from the centre of his desk, not looking up from the mundane-looking form which he was reading.

"No, but I'm pretty sure I won't need one," Harry said as Nelson pushed up his horn-rimmed glasses, as they were sliding down his nose slightly.

"Well, in that case I'm afraid you're going to have to -" Nelson started as he filled away the form he had been reading before looking up to see who had spoken. He stopped as soon as his grey eyes landed on Harry. The speed with which he shot to his feet almost dislodged the raven-feather quill from its inkwell. "I'm sorry, Mister Potter, I didn't realise that it was you. I'll just go and check if he is available, please, take a seat."

The floppy haired assistant then quickly hurried through the double door which were just behind his desk. Harry didn't bother with the row of chairs which sat invitingly against the wall. Instead he remained standing, idly checking his watch but taking no notice of the time. It was just to give him something to do, busy his hands, his mind. Harry had been thinking about this moment on and off for months, wondering what would happen, what he would say. His breathing quickened, a small, tight knot yanked at the pit of his stomach.

Suddenly the doors were pulled open again, Nelson reappeared and informed him that Davis was ready to see him. A brief smile flashed across his pinched features when all Harry could manage was a slightly curt nod. This was it. A small and all too familiar knot pulled at his stomach. He almost laughed, after everything he had faced, all the killers, would-be dark lords and even real ones, Harry was actually nervous to face his boss.

The office was just as Harry remembered it. Sunlight filtered in from the high window behind Davis's long, oak desk. Just another impossibility which magic made flesh. The desk itself was piled high with various stacks of paperwork that Nelson had either sent to Davis for confirmation or that had slipped through his highly efficient net. Either way, the papers made for a chaotic, and yet somehow, organised mess upon Davis's desk. A mess which always managed to mysteriously disappear as soon as anyone important appeared.

"Potter," Davis said, a touch of familiarity to the voice which had managed to terrify every recruit Harry knew. There was no smile, no overly happy greeting. He was an auror, after all. The last of the old guard, Davis had been there for it both wars, one as a recruit, the other as nothing short of a hero. Many of the old aurors had quit on the spot as soon as Voldemort's regime had taken over, fearing for themselves and their families. But Davis had stayed, continued to serve and refused to let his principles be compromised by the rule of a madman. Under Davis' watch muggleborns had mysteriously vanished from cells and the law had continued to mean something. While Harry and the Order had taken all of the headlines, fame had glossed over men like Davis who had carried on in the face of the impossible.

"Sir," Harry replied as Davis got to his feet and extended a hand.

"Good to see you," Davis commented as he took Harry's hand firmly in that same, harsh voice which reminded Harry of Mad-Eye. Unlike Mad-Eye, Davis' body hadn't taken the brunt of his punishment. To the natural observer, he looked like a perfectly ordinary middle-aged man, albeit a well-built version. His black hair receded, the side flecked with grey and hints of white. His face was slightly wrinkled, lined with age and experiences that most men would rather forget.

"Take a seat," Davis said gesturing to the chair which faced his desk. It was rickety, not cushioned and Harry was convinced that Davis had manually shortened one of the legs so that nobody could ever achieve anything which resembled comfort. But that, Harry knew, was the point. Most of the people who entered Daves' office didn't do so by choice, either they were facing his wrath or they were inspecting his work. For either one, Davis wanted the upper-hand.

"So, Carnell tells me that you're fit for duty," Davis continued, neglecting any further small talk as he always did. He was not a man of words.

"Yes sir," Harry confirmed. "Although, I'd like to make a request."

"Go on," Davis nodded leaning back slightly on his chair as his dark eyes pierced Harry's.

"I don't want to be reinstated to my old position," Harry said, a little quicker than he meant to, tripping over the words as the cascaded from his mouth. "I'd like to take a position in the academy, if that's possible?"

"Why the change of heart?" Davis asked. "You've never shown an interest in academy positions before. Why now?"

"Because this life isn't for everyone, sir," Harry answered, "The last few months have made me realise what else is out there. With all due respect sir, I don't think that I can give it up this time."

Left unsaid was just what Harry had given up the first time, the hours that he'd pumped into his work and the commitment he had given to the auror department. It didn't need to be said. Davis knew just how much he had done for them. But he also knew just what had happened because of it. Anyone who'd known Harry then could have seen it. Work had overtaken him, consumed him. But if he went back, Harry knew that it would happen again. He wouldn't mean for it to, he'd try and fight just like he had before. He was just as much a part of the problem as the job itself was.

"I won't lie, Potter, I'm disappointed. You're a damn fine auror and I hoped that you would carry on being one. But I'm only going to ask this once, have you really thought about this? What it means? Because if you do this, Potter and there's no turning back. I can't have you changing your mind once you go through with it."

"Yes sir," Harry nodded, "Eliza suggested that maybe I go somewhere else; do something else. But I couldn't turn my back on this. What we do, it's important. But at the same time, I can't go back to how it was."

"The academy isn't a soft option, Potter. If that's what you're looking for you're going to be in for a shock." Davis warned him.

"I know that, sir. But at least there I'll be able to have a life outside of this."

"If that's what you want, then I won't stand in your way," Davis said solemnly. "I could mind you, I could refuse this, make you go back. I'm well within my rights, you know we're struggling for aurors as it is. But I won't. If this is what you want, then I won't stop you."

"Thank you, sir," Harry had been expecting more of a fight than this. An argument at least. Davis was run thin for aurors, no-one wanted to join up. The war might be over, but the total decimation of the aurors had left a fear which would take years to fade. Harry couldn't help but wonder why Davis had been so accepting. The man who recruits feared and experienced aurors respected. There was an awkward moment of silence, neither man saying anything. But just as Harry was about to ask if he could leave, Davis spoke.

"I was in your position once," Davis told Harry, his eyes going dark with the memory of his words. His voice was filled with a pain which Harry recognised all too well. A pain born of guilt and regret and being unable to change was had long since gone by. "Overworked, underpaid and trying to keep everything together. Except I had a family. A wife who missed me and a daughter who never saw me. I did my best, but as you know, sometimes that isn't enough. I went to my superiors, but they wouldn't help me, claimed we were stretched too thin thanks to the war. It is the single biggest regret of my life and I have spent the rest of my life trying to fix it. I can't in good conscience do the same to you."

A long silence pulled out between the two men, Davis's fixed on Harry but they weren't really seeing him. Davis was remembering the times gone by, the days he had missed and could never get back. Harry wanted to say something, anything to help the man who had helped him his through his first few weeks, the man who had shown him what it was to be an auror. But there was nothing, no words came. Harry could only imagine what Davis had been through. But then, as quickly as the confession had started Davis pulled himself away from the memories, his focusing back on Harry and whatever door he trapped the pain behind in his mind slamming shut. Occlumency training, as Harry had come to realise when he had trained as an auror, could be used for more than shutting out your enemies.

"Have the rest of the week off, you report to Charlotte Matthews Monday morning."

Knowing a sign to leave when he saw one, Harry got to his feet and headed for the door. It was only when he was there that he turned back to look at Davis, but the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement refused to meet his gaze, instead busying himself with notes and papers. Any sense of happiness which may have claimed Harry's thoughts were banished as he looked at Davis. But there was nothing he could do, Davis had to forgive himself before anyone else could and nothing Harry could say would make him see that.


	14. Shindig

**AN: Hi, so first, sorry about the really long wait but I've had literally no time at all and wanted to make sure that this chapter was right before posting it. Also, thank you for everyone who has faved/followed/reviewed this story! I really appreciate it! I'll try and get the next one out as quickly as I can! **

Chapter Fourteen: Shindig

Daphne stared at her reflection in the mirror, critiquing herself. A frown creased her brow; she was being stupid. It was just a meal. That's all it was. Just a meal. But as she carried on staring, Daphne didn't even buy the lie herself. It wasn't 'just a meal'. It might be for them, they all knew each other, they had gone through everything together... and then there was Daphne. On the outside looking in. She sighed, turning from the mirror and going back to searching her wardrobe. It wasn't a long search. Daphne had already tried on almost everything she owned, discarded clothes lay on her bed, thrown aside in a fit of temper by Daphne earlier that evening.

Pulling off her dress, deciding that it was far more formal than she had originally thought, Daphne threw it aside before skimming over the pile which she had already discarded. There was nothing wrong with them, per se, but Daphne was more than aware that she would have to make an impression. These people's opinion mattered. Whether Harry was prepared to admit it or not. Daphne sighed, any other event would have been met with her traditional scorn, a relatively calm period where she took far too long to get ready so as to annoy Draco, followed by an evening of tedium and boredom. But not this time. Instead of calm, Daphne was actually nervous. She scowled as she grabbed her black dress from the pile of already tried on clothes and pulled it on again.

Was it too much? It was a nice dress, there was no denying that. Tasteful, yet not plain and not so revealing that it looked as if she was about to fall out of it. But was this really a 'dress' occasion? But as she was just about to try something else on, there was a knock at the door and Astoria's tanned face poked around it. The honeymoon had suited her. She had cut her long brown hair into a small bob too, further accentuating her pretty face and beautiful smile.

"Hey Daph," Astoria beamed as she let herself into the room. Although her smile froze when she noticed the warzone which had become her sister's usually neat room. "What happened here? Looks like someone let a niffler loose."

"I can't decide what to wear," Daphne explained with a small sigh as she went back to staring into the mirror.

"What's the occasion?" Astoria asked excitedly. Daphne had to resist rolling her eyes. There was a reason she hadn't gone looking for Astoria's help, it was because the youngest Greengrass loved a party. Any excuse to be sociable, then Astoria was there a smile on her face, a drink in her hand and these days Draco on her arm. That, coupled with the fact that Daphne hadn't actually told her sister about the birthday meal, meant that Daphne had been hoping to avoid Astoria until all of this was over. But, apparently, Astoria had other ideas.

"It's Harry's birthday today," Daphne answered reluctantly. She was going to regret this. Astoria had been bad enough without any kind of information as it was. "He's invited me for a meal with a few of his friends."

Daphne couldn't remember the last time her sister's smile had gone so wide. It practically threatened to split her face in half.

"It's just a meal, Tori," Daphne said exasperatedly. Why was everyone so intent on setting them up? Could they not just be friends? Wasn't that allowed? "It's for him and his friends, I happen to fall into that particular category."

"Keep telling yourself that," Astoria replied, never losing that smile as she perched on the arm of the armchair which Daphne refused to let be taken downstairs. "So, what's with the big fuss?"

"Is this too much?" Daphne asked turning from the mirror so as her sister could see the entirety of her outfit.

"Where are you going? Out?"

"I'm not sure, Harry didn't say, all I know is we're meeting at Hermione's."

"Helpful," Astoria said shaking her head slightly before bouncing off of the armchair and towards the pile of abandoned clothes. She was silent for a minute, her pale blue eyes scanning the messy heap.

"You're trying too hard," Astoria remarked as she pulled out a pale blue shirt Daphne had forgotten she owned and a pair of black trousers. "It's just a meal, so treat it like you're going out with Tracey. I get that you want to make a good impression. But there's such a thing as doing too much. Try this."

Astoria's outfit, Daphne had to admit, made her feel far more relaxed than anything else she had tried on that evening. In place of the dresses and skirts Daphne had been alternating, the combination which Astoria had given her made her feel like herself. A sense of calm washed over the slight anxiety which had been pulling at Daphne's stomach as she looked in the mirror. This was different from any Ministry ball or family social. Daphne didn't have to present the best version of herself, Harry wasn't expecting that. He had invited her for her, not for her name. Old habits, apparently, died hard though.

"Much better," Astoria grinned leaning over her sister's shoulder and looking her up and down. "Definitely more you. Hang on, are you wearing make-up?"

"Is it that noticeable?"

"No," Astoria said quickly, "it's nice. I'm sure _Harry_ will love it."

"And here I thought we were having a moment," Daphne said, rolling her eyes at her sister before checking her watch. The sudden realisation of just what the time was made Daphne curse.

"Problem?" Astoria asked as Daphne picked up her wand and gave it a quick flick, summoning the small bag she had enchanted so as it would hold far more than it should. It was small, dainty and absolutely no use to anyone who wanted to carry anything of any practical value. Daphne vaguely remembered having been bought it for a birthday a few years ago and had only rediscovered it when she had emptied her wardrobe with extreme prejudice in the search of an outfit.

"I'm late," Daphne answered hurriedly heading for the door as she summoned a coat which she thought vaguely went with what she was wearing from the huge pile of discarded clothes.

"Can't have that," Astoria grinned, earning herself a scornful look from Daphne. "Have fun, don't do anything I wouldn't. Unless Harry enjoys it, then go for it!"

Had Daphne not been running behind her schedule she would have retorted, but instead she simply ignored her sister's barb and rushed out of her room as Astoria set about cleaning the carnage Daphne had left in her wake.

The journey didn't take long, thanks to both magic and forward planning. A few days earlier, before they had gone for lunch, Harry had shown Daphne where exactly Hermione lived. Daphne hated being unprepared, it made her feel out of control, a fact which Harry knew all too well. So the gesture had been appreciated more than she had been able to say. Daphne was a firm believer that big, grand gestures were not, as some people liked to believe, signs that someone cared deeply. It wasn't that Daphne didn't value them, but for her it was the little things. Small, everyday instances that actually showed what someone thought. Grand gestures required forethought, planning. The little things, they were natural and without force. Daphne had not asked Harry for his help, yet he had given it all the same because he knew that she might need it.

Unlike at Greengrass Manor, the sun had long since stopped shining in London. Dark clouds painted the night sky, blocking out the dying rays of the sun as it fell beyond the horizon. Pulling her coat closer around herself, Daphne turned on the spot looking for the gigantic apartment complex that Hermione had decided to call home. Daphne had never seen the attraction, although she had never had to. Her father had always said that he would never throw out either of his daughters, primarily because he had had the same done for him, but also because if any of them wanted they could go days in the manor and never see the other just because of the huge amount of rooms.

The complex of flats was grand, in a typically muggle and modern, understated way. Huge windows let in as much light as English weather would allow as Daphne climbed the stairs. The hall which led to Hermione's apartment was long and empty, white walls barely decorated and the thick, dark carpet muffling her steps as Daphne counted the various apartments until she came to a dead stop out of Hermione's door. 53. The gold numbers were polished to a gleam, Daphne could see her mutated and deformed reflection which had been warped by the light and shape of the golden numbers.

She raised her hand to knock, let it hang there for a long moment and self-doubt and a panic-fuelled fear clouded her mind. For the briefest of moments she considered turning back, heading away and going back home. But that was the stupid part of her. The part of her that refused to take a chance on people. The part of her that wanted to stay shut away. Daphne hated it, detested it. All of her self-doubt, fears about friendship and commitment. Taking a deep breath, Daphne shook herself, banishing those fears that had ruled her life for far too long and instead walking away she felt herself knocking on the door.

_Too late to turn back now._

"Hi Daphne," Hermione greeted happily, a huge grin on her face as she pulled the door wide open. "Come in," Hermione stepped away from the door, allowing Daphne the space to head inside. "Just put your coat in there, everyone else has." Hermione told her, waving a hand at an open door to Daphne's left. Peeking inside, Daphne quickly realised that it was Hermione's bedroom. Not wanting to look like she was prying Daphne hurriedly took off her coat and threw it onto the bed with the rest of the discarded jackets and coats.

"I got you this," Daphne said, opening her ridiculously small bag and pulling out a bottle of wine that she had put in their earlier that day along with Harry's presents.

"You shouldn't have," Hermione assured her before quickly adding, "thank you though."

"It's alright," Daphne replied with a shrug and slightly forced smile not knowing what else to say. Gone was the cocksure confidence that she usually tried to present. Daphne hated these kind of occasions. Intimate, yet somehow still formal and with a bunch of people she didn't really know. There was a reason she was an unspeakable after all.

"Everyone's just through here," Hermione said leading the way down the slightly narrow hallway and deeper into the apartment. The walls were fairly bare, probably due to the rented nature of the apartment. Daphne had heard more than one horror story from Tracey when she had been trying to find the right one that suited her. Most of the ones she'd found wouldn't allow any kind of decorating for fear it damaged their precious walls.

True to Hermione's word, everyone was in fact there. It seemed that Daphne had been the last one to arrive. The chatter died down a little as Daphne entered the slightly full living room, which had clearly been designed for far less people than it was accommodating. A tall man who could be none other than Ron Weasley stood nearest to the door, a glass of firewhiskey in his hand. He was taller than Daphne remembered, and he had seemed gangly at school. Next to him stood Neville Longbottom, a veritable Herbology genius according to Daphne's father who taught with Neville at Hogwarts. He had changed a lot since Hogwarts, from what Daphne could remember Neville had always been a round-faced boy with the looks to support his shy behaviour. But no more, now Neville Longbottom was a tall, broad-shouldered and incredibly handsome man. Albeit a little shy judging by the way his eyes quickly darted too and then away from Daphne when she looked at him.

On the sofa sat two women who Daphne didn't recognise immediately, although she knew enough to fill in the blanks. The younger woman with the dirty blonde hair who wearing a butterbeer cork necklace, a flowing blue dress and a dreamy smile on her face. She was definitely Luna Lovegood. Next to her sat a far older woman, her hair was shorter than Luna's a slightly flecked with grey. Unlike her sister, Andromeda Tonks actually smiled at Daphne when she entered the room. It was slightly unnerving for Daphne to see anyone closely related to Narcissa by blood actually smile at her. Daphne made a mental note to ask the Malfoy matriarch if she was actually capable of doing so as Daphne had previously dismissed it as something which the Blacks and Malfoys were incapable of doing, or if simulating human emotions was too much for her.

At the centre of the room, his legs crossed and his hair a complete mess as usual, sat Harry. In front of him was a young boy, whom Daphne knew could only be Teddy Lupin. His hair was jet black to match Harry's and he was giggling happily as his godfather played with him. The scene somehow took Daphne completely by surprise. She had never that side of Harry before. He looked as if he didn't have a care in the world, totally and utterly enraptured with his godson. A gigantic smile was plastered across his face, not for Teddy's benefit or anyone else's but because he was truly happy. Before she knew it that was smile was turned on her as Harry looked up at the sound of Hermione's voice. Somehow it managed to change, intensify slightly as his eyes locked with hers. She felt herself grinning back, despite the nerves in her stomach and the fear clawing at the back of her mind.

"Hey," Harry said with a small wave as he got to his feet, before down and saying something that Daphne couldn't quite hear over the general conversation which had started up again after her sudden appearance. No doubt they all knew who she was. Apparently awkward greetings were being saved later. Joy.

"Hi," Daphne replied as Harry carefully picked his way across the living room, avoiding the coffee table and the various drinks which were stood upon the coffee table, Teddy at his heels. When he was near enough to hear her properly Daphne added, "Happy birthday, Harry. Sorry, if I'm a little late."

"No you're right on time," Harry grinned, "and thanks." He waited for a second, allowing Teddy to catch up before saying, "Teddy, I'd like you to meet someone. This is Daphne. She's a very good friend of mine, say hello."

"Hello," Teddy said happily and confidently, his large round eyes fixed on Daphne as he looked up at her.

"Hello Teddy," Daphne smiled, entirely unsure exactly what to say or even how to talk to children. The last time she had spoken to anyone Teddy's age had been when Astoria had been that old, and ten-year old Daphne wasn't exactly helpful source of information. "Your godfather's told me a lot about you."

"You too," Teddy said.

"Good things I hope?" Daphne asked, raising an eyebrow at Harry who shrugged as if it was nothing.

"Uncle Harry never says bad things," Teddy told her, "unless people deserve it. Like the bad guys you chase, right, Uncle Harry?"

"You got it, kiddo," Harry smiled at the seven year old's slight over-simplification of what being an auror meant.

"Do you chase bad guys too, Daphne?" Teddy asked curiously.

"No, I'm an unspeakable. We ask questions," Daphne explained doing her best to simplify just what she did. No mean feat. Some days she wasn't even entirely sure herself.

"And poke things," Harry added with an air of helpfulness and only the hint of a smirk on his face.

"That too," Daphne conceded, rolling her eyes at Harry. "So, no, I don't do the same as what your godfather does. But that's probably for the best. I'd put him out of a job."

"You wish," Harry laughed as Teddy stared wide-eyed at her. Apparently seven year olds weren't too good at recognising sarcasm. "She's joking, Ted, don't worry."

"So, you're still gonna catch bad guys?"

"Still going to catch bad guys," Harry confirmed much to his godson's excitement. A small part of Daphne wanted to melt a little as she looked at the tiny boy, he was sweet and innocent and happy. Despite everything that had happened to him, that could have ruined his life, he seemed perfectly content. A large part of that, Daphne knew, was because of Harry.

"Dinner's ready!" Hermione called from the kitchen before entering the room. There was a sudden flurry of movement, people picking up their glasses from the coffee table in the middle of the room. As soon as the table was empty Hermione drew her wand and with a flick and a muttered incantation, the coffee table turned into a long dining table. With another few flicks of her wand, various other items of furniture turned themselves into matching dining chairs. Daphne wasn't even slightly surprised at Hermione's show of magic, the muggleborn witch always had been talented in the art of transfiguration.

"Would you like a drink, Daph?" Harry asked as everyone else started taking their seats. Andromeda had appeared behind him, ushering Teddy to his seat.

"Wine, thanks," Daphne answered. Harry nodded and headed into the kitchen, no doubt to offer his help to Hermione while he sorted out Daphne's drink. She couldn't smile at that. Harry was so willing to help anyone. Almost as much as he refused to accept any help himself.

Daphne found herself sitting opposite Luna Lovegood, who was talking animatedly to Longbottom about a creature Daphne had never heard of and wasn't entirely sure existed, and next to an empty chair, which presumably would be Harry's, and Andromeda Tonks who was busily making sure that Teddy was in his seat, much to the tiny boy's disapproval.

"Erm, Greengrass," Ron Weasley said awkwardly from across the table, with a look on his face that it made it clear he wasn't entirely sure what to make of her. Daphne privately thought that he would have made an awful Slytherin. No Slytherin would have been that obvious. Except perhaps maybe Draco. But then, he wasn't exactly a shining example of a Slytherin either. "How's work?"

"Good, thanks," was all a highly confused and startled Daphne could muster at the sudden burst of conversation from the last person she expected that she would be talking to. Ron had never made a secret of his dislike or distrust of anyone Slytherin, a habit which according to Harry hadn't changed much since they had left school.

Ploughing on, Ron added, "Harry's told us you made a big breakthrough or something? Time-turners that you can go into the future with, right?"

"Yeah," Daphne said quickly, taken aback by Ron's sudden interest in conversation, albeit forced. It didn't take much of a leap to realise just who had enforced his new-found politeness. Ron had always listened to Hermione after all and the glare had sent him before she quickly rushed back into the kitchen, although she had tried to hide it, would have made lesser men wither. "Though, I think we're going to have a snappier name than that." When Ron didn't even slightly smile she continued, "We're just in the middle of testing it out at the moment. Although, it's going to take a while to do the next part."

"Why's that?"

"Human testing always does, forms, consent, that kind of thing. Bureaucratic nightmare really." Daphne told him. It was the same every time, finding someone was hard enough, particularly with experimental technology. If they didn't find anyone soon Daphne was prepared to volunteer herself. She was sick of waiting. Neither doing one thing or the other.

"That's why we just test our stuff on ourselves," Ron said. "Mind, George isn't going to be doing any for a bit. Not after last time."

"Why, what happened?"

"He got a bit more insight into what it's like being a woman than he bargained for," Ron explained as he chuckled at the memory. "Took us days to find the right antidote."

"Is this George?" Harry asked as he took his seat next to Daphne, passing her the glass of wine he had poured for her as he did so. She gave him a small smile in thanks as Ron nodded his face losing the tightness which it had whilst he had been talking to Daphne. Clearly she wasn't the only one who slightly uncomfortable with her newfound situation.

"He was only meant to change for a minute, turns out he got some of the measurements wrong and ended up stuck like it. Angelina still swears he's got the hips." Ron continued, apparently far more comfortable now that his best friend had joined the conversation.

"I can't believe he thought it'd be a good idea to try that stuff." Harry commented, a small laugh escaping his lips at the memory.

"You know what George is like," Ron shrugged. "Besides, who else are we going to get to test our new stuff? Verity won't let us."

"Would you after what George has put her though?" Harry asked.

"True," Ron conceded. "She has put up with a lot."

"How's the new store going, anyway?" Harry asked as Hermione walked in levitating several plates at once. Daphne debated offering to help before deciding against it. Hermione was the type of woman who refused help out of sheer principle. Daphne had seen enough of her at school and at the Ministry to know that much.

"Yeah, good, bit dead at the moment but it's the holidays so it's to be expected I guess. We're thinking about taking on more staff when school starts again. It was a nightmare, I had to get Verity to come in when she was meant to be off." Ron answered. "Though, Zonko's aren't too happy with us being there, think they've gotten used to having all the Hogwarts kids to themselves."

"You're competing with Zonko's?" Daphne asked, stunned. As far as she could remember no-one had ever tried to rival the Hogsmeade joke shop.

"Trying to, yeah," Ron answered with a noncommittal shrug.

"You're doing better than trying," Hermione said with a fond smile before giving her boyfriend a quick kiss on the cheek as she sat down. "Tuck in everyone, I hope you all like it."

There were several murmurs of thanks as everyone began eating. Perhaps unsurprisingly with Hermione involved the conversation at her end of the table soon turned towards work. Daphne was slowly beginning to wonder just how much the Ministry expected Hermione to be able to deal with, what she was talking about seemed impressive for anyone to cope with, when her thoughts were interrupted by the voice of Andromeda Tonks to her right.

"So," Andromeda Tonks said brightly, having finally settled her excitable grandson done to eating the meal Hermione had laid out before him. "Daphne, Harry tells me you two have been seeing a lot of each other lately."

"Yes?" Daphne answered quizzically not entirely sure or comfortable with where this conversation was headed. The friendliest Black witch was eyeing her with a gaze which Daphne recognised all too well from when Astoria had brought boys home. Daphne silently cursed before continuing, "I mean, I guess you could say that, yes. It's not like we see each other every day or anything."

"It's nice for him to have someone," Andromeda said, a sad smile pulling at her lips as she looked past Daphne to Harry who was listening to Hermione's tirade about the German ambassador.

"Oh, no we're not together," Daphne blurted out hurriedly, not wanting Andromeda to get the wrong idea. Enough people already did. The last person that Daphne needed to add to that list was Andromeda.

"I never said you were," Andromeda countered, smirking, "not that it's any of my business. No, what I meant was that it's nice for him to find new friends. After everything that happened with… _her_, I think he needed it."

Daphne didn't have to ask whom Andromeda was referring to. "Well, I'm glad I could help," Daphne said with a slightly forced smile, trying to steer the conversation away from the still sore subject of Harry's ex. Whilst he may be starting to get over her, it was as plain as day that Andromeda's feelings were nowhere near as dulled on the subject.

"You're not the only one," Andromeda told her. "He's a good man." She paused for a moment, as if lost in herself before saying quickly and with a far brighter smile. "Where are my manners, I haven't even introduced myself. Andromeda Tonks, Teddy's grandmother."

"Nice to meet you," Daphne smiled. "Daphne Greengrass," she added on social automatic before realising that there was really no need, "not that you don't already know that."

"Greengrass?" Neville Longbottom asked from across the table, interrupting their conversation. As soon as he realised just what he had done his face went slightly red. Daphne simply arched an eyebrow, doing her best not to be annoyed by Longbottom's apparent lack of social skills. He may have moved on in leaps and bounds with confidence, but there was still some of the shy school boy Daphne remembered underneath the surface. "Sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt, but you're not related to Matthias Greengrass, are you?"

"I'm his daughter," Daphne explained.

"Really?" Neville asked incredulously. It took all of Daphne's self-restraint not to bite back with a sarcastic response but Longbottom really was making too easy for her. "Hang on, you're not married to Malfoy?"

"That'd be Astoria, my sister, I've got far more taste." Neville laughed, seemingly relieved by her answer.

"She's nice," Luna interjected dreamily. "She helped me find my shoes once."

Not entirely sure what do with that piece of information, Daphne simply nodded. Astoria had mentioned Luna a few times during their time at Hogwarts, primarily because she thought it was unfair how some of the other girls treated her fellow Ravenclaw. Astoria had always had a big heart. It was part of the reason she'd been so willing to accept Draco.

"What's it like being related to Malfoy?" Neville asked as he cut up his steak into smaller slices.

"As fun as you'd imagine," Daphne replied sarcastically, before adding, "It's not been too bad the last few weeks, they've been in France for their honeymoon so I haven't really seen him. Not that he actively seeks my company anyway. We're not exactly on the best of terms."

"Because he's a complete git?" Neville guessed.

"Something along those lines," Daphne nodded. Despite her vow to tolerate the little worm, Daphne knew that she would never be friends with Malfoy. She knew it was petty, but seven years with him had put her off permanently. People changed, sure, but sometimes they stayed the same too.

Luckily Daphne was saved any more questions about Malfoy when Andromeda asked Neville about how his teaching career was going. Neville excitedly began telling her stories about his students and some of the research he was doing as part of a project with Professor Sprout who had asked for his help in investigating underwater Mediterranean plants and their uses.

The meal went rather quickly after that, Daphne doing her best to interact as well as she could with a room full of people she hardly knew. Harry did his best to include her, although Ron seemed slightly reserved with this everyone else happily chatted with Daphne. Towards the end of, when they began reminiscing about Hogwarts, Daphne began to feel slightly lost, having never shared in any of their adventures or joined Dumbledore's Army. She knew they weren't excluding her on purpose, that it was normal for a large group of friends like that to talk about the past, so instead of feeling bitter she sat back and listened as Andromeda and Teddy did to the stories. They skated over any of the particularly violent ones, the fight at the Department of Mysteries or the war. Instead they focused on the happier times, Dumbledore's Army, Hogsmeade trips and old teachers.

When everyone had finished eating and the table had been cleared and then shrunk back to its original size, leaving far more space in the previously quite cramped living room, everyone set about getting comfortable again. Some of the chairs that Hermione had transfigured remained, although Ron attempted to make his a bit more comfortable, eventually succeeding with a little help from Harry.

Daphne was just settling down on the sofa next to Teddy, who had taken an interest in her which she couldn't quite explain, although Andromeda assured her that he was like that with all new people, when the lights dimmed and Hermione re-entered the room carrying a large birthday cake in the shape of a twenty-five. There was a chorus of 'Happy Birthday', with a slight variation on Harry's name from Teddy who was happily singing the loudest, before a slightly sheepish looking Harry blew out the various candles on his cake.

"You going to open your presents now, Harry?" Ron asked loudly when the cake had been distributed to everyone.

"Sure, mate," Harry said, rolling his eyes at his friend's excitement.

"Wicked," Ron grinned, pulling out a poorly wrapped present from the inside of his robes and throwing it to Harry who caught it deftly with one hand as he set down his drink with the other. Hermione shook her head slightly at their antics, taking a seat next to Ron leaning in to him slightly as she watched Harry unwrap his present from Ron. Daphne had never thought that they would work, having seen their constant arguments at school. She had thought perhaps their relationship had come out of desperation, induced by war and fear. But somehow they worked. Maybe because Ron seemed to be a lot calmer than he had been, grown-up. Or maybe Hermione had just grown to be more accepting and less uptight. Whatever the reason, from the outside at least it seemed like their relationship was built to last. Not overly passionate or burning too brightly, but not devoid of emotion either. It was clear in the way that they looked at each other just how much they cared about each other. A slight twinge pulled at Daphne's heart, as loathed as she was to admit there were times, very brief ones, where she wished that she had someone who looked at her like that.

Ron had bought Harry an array of chocolates and Weasley's Wizards Wheezes' products, complaining a little that George had still insisted he pay for it. Hermione's gift was undeniably practical, a dragonhide wand holster, designed to be worn on his wrist underneath the sleeve of his wand arm. Teddy insisted that he was next, presenting his godfather with a clearly home-made card as well as slightly wonky red and black scarf, which Daphne assumed that Andromeda had helped him with. The clearly personal nature of the seven year old's present earned him a sweeping hug from his godfather. Seeing that side of Harry really was going to take some getting used to, Daphne thought as Andromeda passed Harry her present, which turned out to be a new, dark green cloak.

Luna came next, giving Harry her neatly wrapped present to Harry with a wide and happy smile as he opened it.

"Luna, that's…" Harry said lost for words as he stared at his present, a framed, square painting of Hogwarts. The sun hung high in the background of the painting, sending streams of light over the old castle. In the foreground of the painting written in delicate, curling handwriting were the words: _Friendships forged forever._ It was only when Daphne read those words that she realised just why Harry was reacting the way he was. Luna had painted it herself. "Thank you, it's amazing."

"It was nothing," Luna assured him beaming. "Although, I'm glad you like it, Harry."

They shared a smile before Neville picked up his present, which he had disappeared earlier to collect from the bedroom along with some of the others who had left theirs in there too, and passed it to Harry gently. Frowning at his actions, Harry matched the same gentle touch as Neville as he unwrapped the relatively small and strangely shaped object.

"It's a Ramblesnatch rue flower," Neville told Harry as the wrapping fell away to reveal a beautiful flower, its small yellow and purple petals were elegant and encircled the dark centre of the flower. Its green leaves were equally small, if not smaller and twisted under the flower.

"It doesn't explode, does it?" Harry asked eyeing the plant warily. Daphne wondered where that had come from but Neville didn't appear to be offended.

"No, it's not like _mimbulus mimbletonia_, although they're both quite rare though. I found it when I was working with Professor Sprout. There's more common variations, but this one can really only be found in a few places. I've been growing some at home ever since we came back, yours is the one I got the cuttings off actually."

"Thanks, Neville," Harry grinned, before carefully placing his new plant down next to his steadily growing pile of unopened presents. Neville smiled happily, resuming his seat next to Luna as most eyes turned to Daphne. _Last but not least_, she thought to herself as she retrieved her present from the bag she had packed earlier that afternoon. Harry flashed her an appreciative smile before tearing back the wrapping to reveal the present underneath.

"The photos came last week, so I thought you might like one," Daphne explained as Harry stared at Daphne's gift, a framed photo of them together at the wedding. Although, she knew that Harry had complained about the amount of times the photographer had insisted they do it, somehow none of those complaints could be seen on his face as he smiled down at the picture at the memories it contained.

"Cheers, Daph, that's great." Harry said, turning his smile on her.

"Look at the back," Daphne told him, a hint of nervousness filtering into her words. Having seen everyone else's presents she had begun to wonder if the second half of Harry's present was too much. _Too late now_, she told herself as she watched Harry dutifully turn over the frame and discover just what Daphne had hidden on the back.

There, spell-o-taped to the back were tickets to the final of the Quidditch World Cup.

"Whoa," was all Harry managed as he stared at the tickets. "Daph, these must of cost you a fortune! You really didn't have to."

"I wanted to," Daphne said sincerely. It was true. Although, she would never, ever tell him the price. He wasn't wrong when he had said it would have cost her a fortune. They had. Partly, because it was the World Cup, but primarily technically they had sold out months in advance. Seats were always reserved for giant corporations and their representatives, they weren't going to miss two. But even so, it had taken more galleons than Daphne had thought was reasonable and an incredibly large personal favour that her father had cashed in for them. But it had been worth it. Just to see the gigantic smile that was slowly spreading across Harry's face.

"Besides," Daphne shrugged, "Tracey couldn't get the time off work, so I suppose you'll do."

Before she was quite sure what was happening, Harry had risen from his chair and enveloped her in a hug. It took Daphne a brief second to realise just what he had done. He had never hugged her. A sudden warmth spread through her heart, making her grin as she hugged him back.

"What is it, Harry?" Ron asked, trying to peer at the back of the delicate silver frame upon which the tickets had been stuck to when Harry and Daphne broke apart.

"Daph's got me tickets for the final of the World Cup," Harry said, still slightly stunned by her gesture.

"You're kidding!" Ron practically shouted from his seat next to Hermione. "No way! I thought they'd all sold out!"

"You must have been looking in the wrong places then," Daphne said in an attempt to cover up what she had actually done to get the tickets. While it wasn't illegal, she wasn't proud of having to resort to using her father's name to get them. But that was just as much the fault of the system as it was hers, Daphne had reasoned. "The game's at seven on Friday, I hope that's not too short notice?"

"No, it's fine, Friday evening should work," Harry answered with a smile. He looked as if he was about to say something else but before he could a loud yawn interrupted them.

"I think someone should be getting home," Andromeda said, a fond smile on her face as she looked down at her grandson. All of the energy that had seemingly possessed the small child earlier that evening had vanished. Instead of being a tiny ball of excitement and joy, his head had drooped as he nestled against his grandmother. "Come on you, let's get you back."

There was a muffled protest from Teddy, but Andromeda ignored him, picking him up instead.

"I'll show you out," Harry offered quickly, placing the photograph down gently before getting to his feet.

"Lovely seeing you all," Andromeda said in farewell before adding, "and nice to finally meet you, Daphne."

"You too," Daphne replied honestly. Despite having been initially filled with trepidation about meeting Harry's friends and 'family', for that was what Andromeda had become to him, Daphne had actually enjoyed meeting them all.

"Don't be a stranger," Andromeda smiled, before giving everyone a final wave and following Harry out of the living room.

"Is it me," Ron began to ask, "or does it only seem like five minutes since he was crawling around and trying to make friends with the gnomes?"

"Doesn't feel like that long since we left school," Hermione added before asking, "does anyone want another drink?"

Only Ron answered in the affirmative, being the only one whose glass was practically empty.

Daphne wasn't sure how much longer she stayed after that. With Andromeda gone the group went back to reminiscing over past times, or friends they all knew and missed. The Weasleys were avoided as a topic for as much as they could be, perhaps for obvious reasons as Mrs Weasley and Harry were still not on the best of terms, despite it being abundantly clear that her daughter had been the one in the wrong rather than Harry. Daphne found it harder from that point to join in, knowing only half of the names they mentioned and even fewer of the things they had done. But she didn't mind, instead she simply sat back and enjoyed the light conversation, joining in when she could. It wasn't that they left her out, if anything, after the initial awkwardness at the beginning of the evening they actively included her, mainly telling her the stories themselves rather than talking amongst themselves while Daphne listened.

Neville and Luna left soon after Andromeda and Teddy, although Daphne suspected that it had actually been a lot longer than she thought. Both had early mornings, Neville because that was the only time he could get an international portkey, whilst Luna had an early morning interview planned with a man who claimed to have seen what Daphne could only describe as a monster made up of fangs, teeth and other pleasant things which were designed to maim and generally cause discomfort. That left Daphne alone with Ron, Hermione and Harry. A situation which she could never have imagined herself being in only a few months before.

"There's no way we're going to lose to the Japanese," Ron concluded, having been engrossed in a ten minute debate with Harry and Daphne, Hermione had not even bothered to mask the fact that she had zoned out, about the chances of the English Quidditch team in the upcoming games before the final.

"They're not a bad side, though," Harry pointed out.

"Beat Germany without even catching the snitch," Daphne added. "Their chasers are incredible."

"So are ours, and we've got a way better seeker than them." Ron argued. "So, once we get past them, can't see us having to face anyone but the Americans. Bulgaria bottled it. Same with Ireland."

"That'd be a pretty good final," Harry grinned, his eyes flicking first to his present and then to Daphne.

"Still can't believe you managed to get tickets," Ron harrumphed with only a hint of sulkiness in his voice. "Lee's meant to be commentating too, should be a laugh if we actually do make it. There's no way he'll manage to go the whole game being unbiased."

"Doubt he'll even manage a minute," Harry laughed. "He never used to. Should be fun. Wonder if he'll manage to cause an international incident?"

"Lucky we're not playing the French, otherwise I wouldn't put it past him." Ron said. Daphne couldn't help but agree with him. Thankfully for Lee Jordan, famous commentator on the Wizarding Wireless for all things Quidditch, the host nation had gone out early on. Had Lee Jordan actually had to commentate on a game involving England and France then there was no doubt where his allegiances would have lain. "How are you guys even going to get there? Portkey?"

"Safest way," Daphne nodded. "No way am I flying across the channel, even if it is sunny."

"It does get a bit boring after a bit," Harry confirmed.

"When did you fly across the channel?"

"I didn't," Harry replied, "we flew from my aunt and uncle's once in the summer. Mad-Eye kept making us double back in case we were being followed. Took us ages to actually get anywhere. It freezing too. I swear if we'd been up there any longer I'd have gotten pneumonia."

"So, portkey it is then," Daphne nodded, she didn't fancy risking pneumonia, even for a Quidditch final.

"Great," Harry grinned excitedly before adding, "I'll have to let you know when I can get to yours for it next week, if that's okay? It should be okay though."

"Should be?" Daphne asked, arching an eyebrow at her friend. He nodded, his face pulling tight as if he was trying to find the words but couldn't quite think of what to say.

"They've let me back," Harry said slowly, "the aurors, I mean. I start back next week."

"That's brilliant, Harry!" Hermione beamed. Daphne forced her most rehearsed smile onto her lips as Ron began to celebrate too. Her heart sank like a stone and she hated herself for it. She knew that she should be happy for him, ever since they had met all he had wanted was to get back to work. Although, not as much over recent weeks. If anything, Harry had seemed to be enjoying his life as it was. Gone were the wistful comments about getting back to work. That had helped Daphne to simply forget that he would, one day, have to go back. Partly, because they hadn't talked about it for weeks and she had lied to herself and told herself that that was, truly, the only reason. But it wasn't. It wasn't even the primary one. Deep down, Daphne knew exactly why she had tried to forget the inevitable, because it meant that everything would change. She knew what the life of an auror meant.

"Thanks guys," Harry said, breaking Daphne's reverie. "But, I'm not going back to my old job."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, nonplussed. Daphne couldn't help but share in his confusion. Confusion furrowed her brow as she looked at Harry.

"I asked Davis if he could transfer me to the academy," Harry explained, "and he agreed. I start on Monday."

"I never realised you wanted to work at the academy, Harry," Hermione said. Neither had Daphne. He'd never mentioned it once. Not that they talked about his work much anymore. Harry had tended to be more interested in what she did and Daphne hadn't wanted to remind him of the life he had left behind.

"I hadn't planned on it," Harry admitted.

"And Michael let you just do that?" Daphne asked, slightly sceptically. The Michael Davis she knew was tough, single-minded and rather demanding of his recruits and staff. Although, he was no less demanding of them than he was himself. It was part of the reason why Daphne was such good friend's with Tracey. When he and his wife had been trapped at work, Tracey had been dropped off at Greengrass manor in the care of Daphne's mother.

"Yeah, he wasn't happy about it. But I think he understood why I needed the change." Harry told her with a shrug. Daphne arched an eyebrow but didn't say anything else, instead she could not help but mull over the implications of his words. Had Tracey's father wanted to do the same as Harry had done all those years ago? Or had he simply just seen others unable to deal with the stress of a lonely and all-consuming job? "So, looks like we'll still be able to do lunch Tuesday, after all."

"And here I was hoping I'd finally gotten rid of you," Daphne smirked in an attempt to hide that smile that wanted to spread across her face and the slight soaring of her heart. As loathed as she was to admit it, even to herself, Daphne was glad he wasn't going back. She had only just grown used to having him in her life. Their friendship was… important. Daphne hadn't wanted to imagine what she would have had to have done had she lost it. "Looks like I'll just have to try harder next time."

"This was you trying hard?" Harry asked dryly, gesturing towards his present.

"Some people hate generosity," Daphne pointed out. "How was I meant to know you'd be one of those weird people and just accept it?"

"How selfish of me."

"I know, right?" Daphne agreed sarcastically. "Some people, just can't take a hint."

"Well, for future reference, I don't disappear that easily." Harry said, his dry humour disappearing slightly to be replaced with a warm sincerity. Daphne could not help but smile. She knew exactly why those words had left his lips, just as he knew the fears that had dominated so much of her life.

Their words were interrupted by the sound of the clock, which was held on one of the many bookcases which lined the walls of the room, chiming the hour of '12'. Daphne hadn't realised it was that late. Had she really been there all night?

"I'd better get going," Daphne said, getting to her feet.

"Me too, actually," Harry agreed as he too rose from his chair. "Thank you for this, though, Hermione. It's been great to see everyone again."

"It was," Hermione agreed before adding, "Good luck next week, not that you'll need it. I'm sure that you'll do amazing. You'll have to let me know how you get on."

"I will, don't worry," Harry said smiling good-naturedly at Hermione's high-speed fretting. And with that he and Daphne bade goodnight to Harry's two closest friends. Perhaps unsurprisingly Hermione was a bit more enthusiastic with her farewell than Ron, partly because he had almost single-handedly taken on a bottle of firewhiskey, but also, Daphne suspected, because he wasn't entirely sure what to make of her yet. The only difference between the Ron that had gone to Hogwarts and the one that Daphne had just had dinner with was that the younger Ron would have been more obvious about it.

After grabbing their coats and saying goodbye to Hermione and Ron once more, Daphne and Harry left the apartment and headed down the hallway, retracing their footsteps from earlier.

"So, how'd you find them?" Harry asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had fallen between them.

"They're nice, not the super-powered heroes I was expecting, but guess I can't have everything."

"Super-powered heroes?" Harry repeated, surprise tinging his words.

"You really don't know how everyone else sees you, do you?"

"You give up listening after a while," Harry shrugged. "It's easier and less annoying."

"Where were you with advice like that when my face was all over the _Prophet_?" Daphne teased, ignoring the fact that he had more than once told her to just simply ignore them. Although, as Daphne had pointed out at the time, just because he had had lifetime of points and stares, didn't mean that everyone else was so used to it.

"You know we're going to get it again Friday, right?" Harry asked as Daphne led the way down the narrow staircase back towards street level. "Reporters, cameras, a front-page spread, the works."

"Don't remind me," Daphne said bitterly. She had known that it would happen. Vane had gone to town last time Harry had been seen at a quidditch match, Merlin only knew what she was going to be like when there were reports of Daphne and Harry together. But it would be worth it. Both for the fact that it would be nice change to see England actually get there, but also because Harry would love it. He had bemoaned more than once growing up in the muggle world and as a result missing out on his favourite sport. "Honestly, can't take you anywhere."

"You should really know that by now," Harry pointed out, "so, technically it's your fault."

"I'll take the tickets back then," Daphne threatened as she pushed open the door to the ground floor and headed for the exit.

"But then who will you go with?"

"I'm sure Draco wouldn't mind seeing the game," Daphne argued, unable to keep a straight face as she did so. Even Harry's mock serious face cracked as he laughed at the thought. Daphne couldn't imagine much else worse than being forced to go with Draco Malfoy. She suspected that, despite their newfound tolerance, she would miss most of the game because she would have cursed him.

"Thank you," Harry said seriously, his face slightly losing its smile as he looked at Daphne.

"For?"

"The tickets," Harry explained, "they were really thoughtful. The photo too. I love it. So, thank you. I really appreciate it."

"Don't mention it, it's what friends are for. Besides, I wanted to do something special. It might surprise you, Harry, but I don't have that many friends. Think of it as my way of saying thank you. For sticking around, putting up with me, being my friend, and for… for making me feel special."

Daphne wasn't quite sure why she said those words. She had almost kept them locked inside her. Not because it was a lie, it anything other than a lie, but because Harry deserved to know just how much he meant to her. All her life Daphne had had trouble making friends, true friends, not just acquaintances. People she saw and liked, but not people that she truly, deeply cared about and who felt just the same about her. It was her own fault, she knew that. After her mother had died, Daphne hadn't wanted to risk losing anyone ever again. But despite that, Harry had managed to claw his way in, and for that she was grateful.

Harry didn't say anything for a moment, instead he simply came to a stop in the cold night air. His eyes never left hers, but then he spoke, his voice low and sincere, "thank you for exactly the same."

They stood there for a long moment, the cold air billowing around them, but Daphne didn't notice it. Had she, then she would have cast a heat charm to keep them both warm. Yet, as she smiled up at Harry somehow she didn't notice the cold biting at her skin, and the wind blowing at her coat. It was as if a warmth was flowing from her heart. Rarely had she felt this comfortable, this happy with someone. She had shown him exactly who she was, opened up to him and he simply accepted her. Not for her money, or her name, but because of who she was. There were very few people whom Daphne could be herself with. She was glad that he was one of them.


	15. A Different Path

**AN: I'm sure some of you may have noticed that this story now has a cover photo. I'd like to thank a very good friend of mine for taking the time to make this and the cover she has done for my other story. I think they're both amazing! I'd also like to thank my beta for going over this chapter and all of the others, but especially this one as your comments have helped, I hope, to improve the chapter. Hope you all enjoy it!**

Chapter Fifteen: A Different Path

Harry couldn't shake the strange feeling that overwhelmed him as he looked at his reflection in the small mirror opposite his bed and examined his reflection. For the first time in what felt like years, but had actually been months, he was wearing his auror uniform. Ever since he had been forced to leave, Harry had refused to wear it. It had been a sign of what he had lost, what he knew deep down he had thrown away.

His eyes drifted to the picture Daphne had given him only days before. A small smile pulled at his lips as he watched himself and Daphne smile and laugh at a time gone by. He had gone into that wedding dreading the occasion, being forced to be nice to Malfoys and other Greengrasses, who Daphne despised. Yet despite himself, and completely by accident, Harry had actually managed to enjoy himself and all because of Daphne. The very first time that he had met her, Harry never would have dreamed that they would wind up being such close friends. She had been simply a distraction that night, a way to avoid the pain that had been consuming him. But over time they had become more than that.

Harry had often wondered what he might have done had they never met. Would he have forgiven Ginny, let her worm her way back into his life? Had it not been for Daphne, then Harry knew he would have kept clinging to the past that he had been partly responsible for destroying. Or would he have stayed shut off from the world around him and allowed the distance that had grown between himself and his friends stay permanent? The possibilities, Harry had come to realise, were endless. Yet, somehow, he suspected that the particular road he was travelling was the one he would always have wanted to journey down. Since Daphne had entered his life, Harry had become happy again. She might never know just what she had done for him. Words could never do his gratitude justice. But perhaps that was the point. Friendship, true friendship, Harry had come to realise, could not be summed up in a few words or a phrase. The way he felt about Daphne, Ron or Hermione was impossible to verbalise. Some emotions, Harry knew, were too strong for even the most profound of words.

Realising that he had been staring at Daphne's gift for far longer than he had even been aware, Harry shook his head slightly and tore his eyes from the photograph. With one last look in the mirror, and a sigh at his hair which he had neither the time nor the patience to tame, Harry set off for work. He had already eaten earlier that morning, leaving putting on his robes until the last moment, and so instead of heading for the kitchen he went straight for the front door. Once outside he tapped the door with his wand, reactivating the many wards and charms on it, before turning on the spot and vanishing from Grimmauld Place.

After the familiar tightening, squeezing and all round discomfort of magical transportation, Harry opened his eyes and tried to get his bearings. It had been years since he had actually been to the academy. Aurors didn't go back there - why would they? Once they'd gotten the necessary training there was no need. It served a means to an end and when Harry had left he had never pictured himself returning. _Funny how things work out,_ he thought idly as he exited the alleyway which he had apparated into.

The street was as empty as it had always been when Harry had been a trainee auror. The Ministry had been careful to make sure that the academy was somewhere obscure, yet ordinary so as no wizard or muggle would stumble upon it. For this exact reason, they had chosen to put the academy not in London, but in a small town to the north. A few shoppers, eager to get to the centre of town bustled by without looking at Harry, not seeming to notice or care about his robes. Nobody paid him any attention as he crossed the road and walked towards what looked like an out of business sporting goods shop. If anyone was to ask a passer-by about the shop Harry knew that they would simply shrug and say it had always been like that but that someone would take it on eventually. It was what people did: pay no attention to things that seemed unimportant and that had always stayed the same. Change drew attention, so familiarity was its own protection.

Making sure that no one noticed him, Harry crossed the street and headed for the door of the supposedly abandoned shop. Once there he waited for a moment, checking the street one last time, before leaning against and then through the door.

The room on the other side of the door was nothing like the shop that it pretended to be when looked at from the outside. Inside, it was well lit, free of dust and manikins. Even the size of it was wrong. It was bigger, much larger than the exterior dimensions should have allowed. Magic had a way of altering reality. A large desk sat in front of him, with a small queue of people forming in front of a tired looking man whom recognised as Douglas Quinn. He'd been the guard back when Harry himself had been a trainee. Past his desk there was a long corridor, which Harry knew led into the depths of the building and the many training rooms, classrooms and offices that lay beyond. As Harry stepped forwards, regaining familiarity with his surroundings a young woman hurried forwards. She was quite tall, with her dark brown hair cut into a bob. She pulled a strand of it behind her ear and bit her lip before speaking.

"Auror Potter?" she asked, with only a hint of trepidation. But it wasn't really a question. The recognition in her eyes had been almost instantaneous and Harry had to suppress a sigh as they flicked towards his scar. "I'm Jennifer Crawford, I'm a trainee auror. I've been asked to show you to Auror Matthews's office."

"Lead the way," Harry said politely, doing his best to put the clearly nervous woman at ease. She couldn't be more than 19. She suddenly made Harry feel old, at least in comparison. Six years might not be that much of a difference later in life, but at their age it certainly felt like it was. Crawford was barely out of Hogwarts. Harry, on the other hand, had helped raise his godson, had a failed engagement and had dealt with more dark wizards and witches than he cared to remember. Merlin only knew where he'd be in another six years. It didn't bear thinking about. Everything could change so quickly. Daphne was evidence of that.

Crawford nodded and turned on her heel, before showing Harry down the corridor. It served almost like a bottle neck. All of the traffic in and out of the building had to go through it, no matter which area they wanted to get to. Once they headed down there, however, the building opened up and a series of different corridors and stairs led to the vast array of facilities the academy held within its walls.

Matthews's office, it turned out, was exactly where Harry had thought it would be. The only difference was who was behind the door. When he had been a trainee auror, the office had belonged to John Wainwright, who had since retired. Wainwright had been a good man, Harry remembered, although he had been equally firm and strict with his recruits. Back then, with numbers depleted and concern over the lack of applicants to the academy mounting, Davis had taken an active role in supporting Wainwright. That was how Harry had first met him. But times changed, and now Matthews was in charge.

"This is it," Crawford said, breaking the mutual silence that had fallen between herself and Harry in the brief walk from the entrance.

"Thanks," Harry nodded. Crawford did the same, flashing him a quick smile before heading off back the way they had come. She was soon joined by a man, who wore the same trainee robes as she did. Harry watched as the man turned to look at him, then back to Crawford and began whispering to her. No doubt they were wondering what he was doing there. Harry shook his head slightly before turning back to the closed door before him. He gave a quick knock and only entered at the sound of summons from the other side.

"Potter," Charlotte Matthews said when he entered the room. She was older than Harry had expected, he imagined that she was somewhere around fifty. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a bun, which was held in place by several hair grips. A full fringe threatened to brush into her eyes as she looked up at him over the rim of her black-framed glasses. Piercing blue eyes met his, making Harry feel like he was a teenager again and that he was standing in McGonagall's office. The same unease washed over him as he stood slightly awkwardly in the doorway, not entirely sure whether to sit or stand.

Matthews didn't say anything for a moment, looking back at the paper she had been reading. Her desk was slightly cluttered and untidy, stacks of what looked like reports or exam papers piled all over it. There were no signs of personal effects around the room, the office walls were bare, and so too was the desk. Wainwright had kept an old, battered, silver inkwell on his desk. A gift from his mentor. But where the inkwell had sat, there were only papers.

"Take a seat," Matthews said eventually, gesturing with one hand to the empty chair before her as she discarded the paper with her other. Harry did as he was instructed, pulling back the wooden chair from in front of her desk and sitting down. The room was laid out so as whoever was sat in his chair would have to turn to see anybody who entered, whereas Matthews would only need to look up.

"So," Matthews began, pulling open one of her desk drawers and retrieving a thin file from within and placing it onto her desk. "Davis tells me you're interested in taking a position here then, Potter."

"Yes, ma'am," Harry nodded.

"Right, first off, none of that 'ma'am' bollocks, it's Charlotte to you or boss if you're uncomfortable with that. We're both aurors, and you're on my level as far as I'm concerned, especially if we're going to be working together. Understood?" Harry nodded, somewhat taken aback by her brusque manner. "Excellent. So, Potter, tell me. Why is it you want you want to work here? As far as I knew you were flavour the month, Merlin, the year. Some had you touted to be the youngest department head of the auror office we've ever had. Yet, here you are."

"Something wrong with that?"

"No, just usually most of the people I see for jobs down here have either royally screwed up or are coming to the tail end of their careers and need a nice little steady job before they retire. Neither of which is very useful to me, I can tell you. I've sent more than a few of them packing. But seeing as you're neither, I'm just a little surprised that you're here. Not just that, but you requested to come. Why? D'you think it's easy? Because I'm telling you right now it's not."

"No," Harry answered quickly, "I don't."

"Then why are you here, Potter?"

"Because I want to have a life outside of being an auror," Harry answered honestly.

"So why not quit?" Matthews pressed, her blue eyes still fixed on his. "There's plenty of other jobs out there. Come to think of it, why do you even need to work at all?"

"What we do is important," Harry told her with only the smallest amount of frustration at the edge of his words. He hadn't expected anything like this. A few questions maybe, but not an interrogation. "Protecting people, standing for what's right. I couldn't turn my back on it."

"But you couldn't carry on with what you had been doing either," Matthews finished.

Harry nodded, not saying anything else. He didn't need to. She understood exactly what he meant, there was no point wasting his breath. Matthews said nothing for a long moment, instead choosing to mull over his words and leave him in silence, waiting for her to speak again.

"There are two things you need to know before we take this any further," Matthews began eventually, "firstly, I decide who works here. Not Davis. So, if you really want in, you have to get my say so. Secondly, I expect nothing less than total commitment while you're here. We have a responsibility. What we teach here, how we act, what we do, everything. It matters. We pass on bad habits, it's on our heads when they get killed. It's even worse for you. I've had a word with Davis and I know you don't like to admit it, Potter, but people look up to you, this lot included. They'll copy anything and everything you do, so I can't have you half-arsing this, understood?"

"Perfectly," Harry said, he had never thought about it that way before, but she was right. As loath as Harry was to admit it, people did what he did. Copied him. There had been a stupid craze after the war had ended that everyone were to hairdressers and barbers all over Wizarding Britain asking to have their hair cut like his. Harry had laughed at that particular obsession, they had styled their hair after the man who couldn't even tame his own. But this was far more serious. Whether consciously or not, recruits always copied their mentors and Matthews was right. It would be even worse for him. Everyone would want to style themselves so as they could be the next Harry Potter and he had to be everything they expected. _No pressure, then._

"You'll be starting off as an assistant instructor," Matthews told him, "this week you'll be shadowing me, and then _if _I think you're cut out for this you'll be assigned to one of the other instructors until you're ready to take a class of your own. How long that takes is up to you."

The rest of the day passed rather quickly after Matthews's rather brusque and blunt interview was over. He soon found out that she was like that with everyone. Her students, other instructors, despite her policy that all aurors were the same it was clear that she just a bit more equal than everyone else. Painfully honest, intolerant and demanding of respect, Charlotte Matthews, Harry quickly came to realise, was the perfect chief instructor. She instilled discipline within a matter of minutes. Any training aurors that thought they could just sail through were sorely mistaken.

There were only three other instructors, Ainsley Baldwin, who Harry remembered from his own time at the academy and had been there for as long as anybody could remember. Baldwin, despite constant expectation, refused to move from his post and people had stopped asking for him to do so years ago. Then there was James Thompson, who wasn't much older than Harry himself, and had only just become an instructor. Finally, there was Siobhan Rayner, who had transferred to the British Auror Department soon after the end of the war as part of the effort to bolster the ranks of the aurors. She had started at the academy a year previously, after suffering a long-stint in St. Mungo's and never having truly recovered. But they were all friendly enough, although Harry knew he couldn't pass judgement. Everyone presented the best version of themselves to strangers.

On his first day he had stayed over lunch, wanting to get to know his new colleagues a little better and desperate to show Matthews that he was committed to their work. But, on the second day, as promised, Harry left the confines of the academy and went to meet Daphne for lunch. He had been looking forward to it all that day. As he always did when he went to see Daphne. Their midday rendezvouses had become a fixture of his week that he could no longer do without. He changed quickly out of his uniform, stuffing into the locker that Matthews had assigned him. It wasn't worth the hassle of having to explain them to confused muggles, so instead he donned a casual shirt and a pair of jeans.

"Hey Harry," Daphne greeted when he sat down five minutes later at the table she had reserved for them. He frowned slightly at this, he had been expecting a snarky comment, perhaps a sarcastic remark about his tardiness. He was about to sit down when she added: "Nice of you to finally show up." _There it is, _Harry thought suppressing a laugh. He doubted that Daphne knew how predictable she had become to him.

"Sorry, I got held up," Harry apologised. He hated being late for anything. It didn't help that Daphne was constantly early. She always did like to be prepared. "Matthews insisted on going through a trainee's essay with me before letting me go."

"I'm only joking, although it's about time you did some work," Daphne teased unsympathetically. "Now you know how the rest of us feel." That particular comment only came with the hint of a smirk. "How is it, anyway? You enjoying it?"

"Yeah, actually, I am." Harry grinned. He hadn't been expecting to be loving his new found career path quite as much as he was doing. But somehow it felt natural. Like it was where he was meant to be. The only time he'd ever felt like that before was back during his time at the head of the DA. It was odd. He had never considered teaching before, but even as an assistant to the bossy, opinionated Matthews, Harry felt somehow at home.

"Matthews giving you a hard time?" Daphne probed curiously. "Dad knows her," she explained at his look of mild confusion. "They graduated together. Apparently she's always been really uptight and controlling."

"Narcissa's uptight and controlling, but compared Matthews she looks like a pigmy puff." Harry said sarcastically, causing Daphne to laugh into her drink. "But as long as you stay on her good side you're alright really. At least, that's what I'm trying to do. I'm shadowing her until Friday. That's when she decides if I can stay."

"I thought Michael had already transferred you?" Daphne asked. Harry still found it strange that she was on first name terms with his boss. To him, Davis had never even looked like he had a first name nor that he knew anyone well enough to use it. Even aurors he'd known for years still called him 'sir' or by his last name. Although, technically, Daphne had seniority over all of them. That was the wonderful thing about a private life, it was private.

"He has," Harry nodded, "but doesn't know if Matthews is going to accept it. Rayner, she's one of the other instructors, she was telling me that they've had six aurors turned away already this year. Matthews refused to accept them, even though they're struggling for staff at the moment. Merlin only knows how she gets away with it."

"She's got one of the best records for getting a high percentage of aurors through the academy," Daphne explained. "I don't know if it was like this when you went through, but apparently loads of people tend to drop out in the first or second years."

"Quite a few did leave," Harry remembered. Ron had been among them. But so too had Seamus Finnegan and Dean Thomas. The only one from the DA who had graduated alongside Harry had been Susan Bones. She had been desperate to follow in her aunt's footsteps and the last Harry had heard she was doing a damn good job at it too.

"Explains why she can be so fussy," Daphne said, "but apart from Morgana, how's it going? Think she'll let you stay on?"

"I hope so," Harry replied, "I've actually really enjoyed it. I mean, I used to say that about doing field work too, but I don't know, this just feels… better. I was actually excited to go into today. Sure, it might change when I start having my own classes, but even then I think I'm still going to enjoy it."

"I'm glad," Daphne smiled, her face lighting up in the way that Harry knew it rarely did for anyone else, except those closest to her. "You deserve it, Harry, really. And if she lets you slip through her fingers, then she's a moron."

"Thanks, Daph," Harry said, genuinely touched by her words, just as he had been the night that she had given him his present. There were very few occasions where Daphne would open up. Harry hadn't been lying when he had told her that she made him feel special. She did, unlike anybody else that he knew, and Harry couldn't explain why. She had come into his life when he had most needed someone to be there for him, and instead of recoiling at the mixture of anger and mood swings that he had been back then she had stayed.

"It's the truth," Daphne shrugged noncommittally. "Right, are you ordering? Because I'm starving and you've kept me waiting for ages already."

"It was five minutes," Harry countered good-naturedly as he opened up the menu that Daphne had seemingly abandoned on their table.

"I'll be the judge of time," Daphne replied, before taking another sip of her drink and giving him a brief moment to make his mind up on what it was he wanted. It wasn't a hard choice. They had been once before and Harry wasn't going to deviate from the meal he had had last time. Burger and sweet potato chips. Not exactly a healthy option, but he had physical training after lunch and no doubt Matthews was going to use him as a punching bag for eager trainees.

"Is seven okay for Friday?" Daphne asked when they had both ordered and Harry had gotten a drink.

"Should be," Harry nodded, "I get off at five most days, but I'll double check."

"You sure it won't clash with seeing Teddy?"

"No, I'll just go a little earlier," Harry answered, although he appreciated the sentiment. Unlike Ginny, Daphne was considerate of how much time he wanted to spend with his godson. His brain came to a sudden halt at that. 'Unlike Ginny'? Where had that come from? He never even compared Hermione or Andromeda to the youngest Weasley. So why Daphne? He frowned, trying to shake the thought from his mind. It was nothing. They were or had been both important women in his life, after all. It was nothing. Wasn't it?

"Harry?"

"Yes? Sorry, zoned out." Harry said quickly, his cheeks flushing a little as he realised that Daphne had been talking that whole time and he hadn't noticed.

"I'm glad my company means that much to you," Daphne smirked, rolling her eyes. "Anyway, as I was saying, I can always try and get it later if it's a problem."

"No, it's fine, Daph, really." Harry assured her, unable to stop the smile spreading across his face at her concern. "I've already explained to them that I'll probably have to visit a little earlier. The game starts at what, eight? I kind of guessed that we'd be leaving around then anyway. To be honest, I thought it'd be a fair bit earlier."

"It was the latest I could get," Daphne admitted, somewhat apologetically. "I know you don't like missing out on seeing him if you can avoid it."

"True," Harry agreed, "but I think just this once it'll be okay."

Daphne was silent for a moment, as if mulling something over. Her green eyes fixed on Harry's face, a slight frown creasing her brow as he chewed lip. It was the same look she had worn whenever they had been discussing her time-turner project all those weeks and months ago. It was a look reserved purely for problems, the puzzles that she couldn't solve, and now she was turning it on him.

"Why do you do it?" Daphne asked eventually, her curiosity apparently getting the better of her.

"Do what?" Harry countered. But he knew what she meant. It was the same question he had asked of himself all those years ago. The question that had led to a promise he would never break.

"Spend so much time with him," Daphne clarified, "you go out of your way to be there for him. Don't get me wrong, I think it's great. My godfather's never done anything like. Hell, my whole family like to pretend we don't exist unless they want something."

"I see a lot of myself in him," Harry answered, cutting off Daphne's rant about her family before it began. Not that he could blame her. They were not exactly Harry had come to know a family should be. "Neither of us have any parents, and we're both different from everybody else for something we can't control. I don't know how much I've told you about the Dursley's, but they were not nice people. So when I finally got a family, I thought I'd actually gotten out of there. Trouble was, Sirius couldn't exactly be there, even though he wanted to be. And then… then I lost him too. So, I promised myself that I would never let Teddy have that life. Just because Remus and Tonks can't be there for him, it doesn't mean that he has to live without love."

"Harry, I…" Harry gritted his teeth, not wanting to hear the words that he knew would come spilling out of her mouth. He didn't want to hear it. That she was sorry. That she wished she could change it. It was why he never told anyone. There were some things that even Ron or Hermione didn't know. Because Harry couldn't bear to see the pity in their eyes. "That's incredible."

"What?" Harry asked, nonplussed as he stared at her.

"That you can think like that, after everything. I know I wouldn't have been able to."

"I couldn't just leave him," Harry explained as gently as he could. He knew what Daphne was thinking. When her mother had died, Daphne had tried to shut herself off. Locked away the rest of the world. Guilt tinged the edge of her words. But they were different people, with different situations. When Daphne had lost her mother, she had been a child. A young girl who had no idea that death had been waiting for her. A girl who hadn't even had chance to say goodbye. Harry could never blame her for how she had reacted. As far as he was concerned, she had had it worse than he had back then. Everyone - aside from the Dursleys who hadn't cared less - had always been sympathetic of his loss. But he had never known his parents and as a result could never truly know what he had been missing. Daphne had. But that situation was wholly different from his own. She shouldn't blame herself for reacting differently.

"It wasn't his fault," Harry continued, "He didn't deserve to suffer just because of a fight that wasn't his. Tonks and Remus, they died for what they believed in, they died to give their son a better world. I couldn't deny him that."

"He's lucky to have you," Daphne said, with no trace of her usual sarcastic self.

"Funny, most of the time I think I'm the one lucky to have him," Harry admitted. It was strange, to talk about Teddy. He had never really spoken about it. Everyone else Harry knew simply accepted that it was going to happen. None of them had questioned it, even Ginny, despite the bitterness that had developed between herself and the relationship Harry cherished with his godson. But they had all known the circumstances, the reasons why Harry could never turn his back on Teddy and had therefore just gone along with it. Daphne, however, had not. She had a right to. It was just one of the many stories that he would one day get around to telling her.

"I could tell," Daphne smiled. "You're good with him, you know."

"Thank you,"

"It was strange though, seeing you with him like that," Daphne went on.

"Why?"

"I don't know, it just was, like a whole new side to you that I never knew existed." Daphne explained. Harry knew exactly what she meant. It had been weird, at first, having to be the father figure that Teddy needed. Harry had been barely old enough to look after himself, let alone a child. It was part of Andromeda had been the one to take Teddy in. That, and she had wanted to spend as much time with the only family she had left as she could.

"Well, I'm glad I can still surprise you."

"I think you always will," Daphne told him. Harry smiled at that, the implied continuation of their friendship. She wasn't the only one that did not want it to end. Although it had only been a few months, compared to the years that he had known Ron or Hermione, she had become equally irreplaceable to him. He did want to imagine a life without her.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a smiling waitress with a notepad and pen at the ready. After having taken his order, and then Daphne's, the waitress hurried away rushing towards the sound of the ringing bell from the kitchen, but not before she gave Harry and Daphne the knowing grin that everyone seemed to give them. Harry had given up getting annoyed. He was far too used to it. Everyone was going to assume anyway. It didn't matter what he said, it didn't matter that he wasn't looking for anyone after Ginny, because everybody would always assume.

Instead of returning to the serious topic of Teddy, Daphne steered the conversation towards the arrangements for the final. Magical travel made the need to stay the night unnecessary and as Daphne had to be at work the next day it made little sense for Harry to stay in France on his own. There were plenty of portkeys arranged for after the game, for the people who had to get back. Just because it would be the weekend didn't mean that everyone could go home straight after.

"Why are they dragging you in on a weekend?" Harry asked, their food had arrived and both Harry and Daphne were more than halfway through their meals. Time was slowly ticking away and neither of them could stay there forever.

"I'm not going in as such," Daphne replied, "we've still not found anyone to actually trial the time-turner so I'll be trying to convince the usual lot of people that it would be a good idea."

"Usual lot?"

"People just out of Hogwarts usually," Daphne explained, "they need the money, we need to have human test subjects. It works well. Trouble is most people have never used a time-turner, let alone an experimental one that hasn't been tested on actual people. They're scared something could go wrong. Time-turners don't exactly have a great reputation, mainly because people abuse them or because they try and go back further than it will let them."

"But it still puts people off," Harry finished.

"Exactly," Daphne huffed. "It's been an absolute nightmare. It doesn't help that we want to send them off for a day, everyone keeps claiming that they've got people who rely on them or would miss them. It's bollocks, but good enough as excuses go."

"Can't you just shorten it?"

"Not really, we've done tests on animals that have gone longer, so we know that it works. We won't start on the day, obviously. First we do a minute, then an hour, then a day. But they need to be made aware of what they're signing themselves up for, and none of them are too thrilled by the idea."

"So, when would you do it if you found someone?" Harry asked.

"As soon as possible, we have the equipment all set up, so that's not a problem. This lot don't have jobs so working around shifts isn't exactly an issue."

"What if it wasn't one of them?" Harry probed.

"Then we'd find a few days that worked for both of us," Daphne told him. "Weekend, mid-week, wherever, I'm not fussy and Miller hasn't got the busiest of social lives either so he'd be free. Trouble is that we're starting to run out of time. It's not like we can keep searching for people forever and if we don't find anyone soon then all of this is for nothing."

"Why?"

"If you can't prove that it works, properly on actual people and not just on animals, then there's only so much that can be done with it. Say this was some kind potion that we wanted to sell to a mass-market, but we'd only got evidence that it works on animals, who would invest in that? No-one. It's the same principle. If they want to reproduce all of our time-turners on a large scale then we're going to need to have them tested. If not, well, then it gets shelved and I'm forced to move onto something else."

"But that's not fair, it's not your fault that people won't volunteer."

"Doesn't matter whose fault it is, Harry. What matters is getting it tested." She sighed, discarding her fork, her food forgotten and her appetite apparently vanishing too. Harry had never seen her like this. Like she wanted to give up. "We've been looking for weeks, we've only got a few days left. You know what Luidhard's like, budget conscious bastard that he is. To be honest with you, I don't think we're going to find anyone. I mean, whose going to want to lose a whole day of their life just to see if it works?

"Me?" Harry asked hesitantly, as if his mouth was only just catching up with what his brain wanted to say. He couldn't sit by while Daphne was facing the threat of the project that she had worked so hard for being shut down. Not if he could do something about it. She had spent so much time on it and against all the odds stacked against her she had managed to get it this far. She couldn't fail now. It meant far too much to her. "Me. I'll do it."

"You?" Daphne demanded, slightly stunned by his suggestion.

"Me," Harry confirmed. "Why not? It's not as if it isn't safe, you've proven that loads of times. Besides, I trust you."

"Are you being serious?"

"Cross my heart and hope to die," Harry nodded, glossing over the fact that technically he had done that already. There was a stunned silence as Daphne stared at him, seemingly unable to believe her eyes. Harry had no idea why. Why wouldn't he help her? She was his friend. He would do anything to help her, whether or not she knew it.

Before he knew what was happening, Daphne had gotten to her feet, closed the space between them and was hugged him. He sat there for a long moment, taken aback, like many of the muggle diners around them who watched on casually. Awkwardly trying to unwrap his arms from her embrace, Harry eventually was able to hug her back, a smile pulling at his lips at the feel of her arms around him. There was a muffled sound in his neck.

"Sorry?" Harry asked, unable to hear the words that Daphne was attempting to say.

"Thank you," Daphne said, pulling away slightly so as he could hear her. "Really, Harry, thank you."

"Any time," Harry smiled.

After that Daphne barely stopped grinning for the rest of the meal, unable to contain her excitement at the idea that her project would at last be entering the final stage of testing. Harry simply sat back and let her talk, enjoying listening to her and seeing her smile light up her face. It was a shame she didn't smile more, Harry mused when they had gone their separate ways with Daphne promising that she would be at his the following day with the relevant paperwork before she vanished into thin air. He had noticed it ever since the wedding but never really thought about it. Her smile made her beautiful, even more so than she already was. Harry had just dismissed it as the same as when he had noticed Hermione during the Yule Ball. That was just all it was, wasn't it?

He shook himself, trying to banish the thoughts from his mind before checking around the carpark, making sure that there were no muggles around him, before turning on the spot and vanishing.

oOo

"Harry! Could you get that?" Andromeda Tonks asked from the kitchen as the doorbell rang, signalling the arrival of one of the many guests that she had invited around for that evening. With England fighting for a place in the final, the Weasleys', Harry, Teddy and Andromeda even if she wouldn't admit it, were all enraptured in the unlikely run that their country had gone on. So Andromeda, who had thoroughly enjoyed seeing everyone again at his birthday, had taken it upon herself to invite everyone they knew, with a few notable exceptions, to listen to the game on her wireless.

"Sure," Harry called back, setting down his drink, glancing quickly at Teddy to make sure that he was still enjoying himself with a slightly confused Hermione who had taken it upon herself to look after Harry's godson, saying that it was about time that he was allowed to have an evening without having to worry about Teddy. Harry hadn't had the heart to tell her that no matter how he tried he could not avoid worrying about Teddy. She wouldn't understand. She couldn't. But he had appreciated the gesture all the same.

The ringer of the bell turned out to be George Weasley, Angelina was listening to the game with her teammates so George had wholeheartedly accepted the invite when it had come his way.

"Hi Harry," George grinned, his lips splitting the cross that he had painted on his face. He was wearing the latest England jersey and was carrying a small England flag in his right hand. "Everyone else here, yet?"

"Come in," Harry said, opening the door wide for George. "No, not yet, we're still waiting on and Neville. Don't know if anyone else is coming."

"Bill shown up?" George asked as he crossed the threshold and Harry shut the door behind him.

"Didn't you hear? Fleur's dad gave them his tickets, so they're actually at the game." Harry had tried to be jealous, but had been unable to bring himself to it. Sure, they had tickets to the semi-final, but if England actually managed to get through he'd be going to see them battle it out for the cup itself.

"I knew there was a reason I should've got there first," George scowled good-naturedly. "Always said she was too good for him."

Harry shook his head, trying not to laugh at his friend's antics as they entered the living room and everyone greeted the final member of the Weasley family that would be attending. Andromeda had chosen not to invite either Arthur or Molly, primarily because she wasn't entirely sure where Molly stood on regards to Harry. After the break-up between himself and Ginny, the fallout from the Weasley matriarch had been catastrophic. It hadn't helped that nobody had known the real reason for why they had split up, and Harry had been too angry and absorbed in the pain of it all that he hadn't bothered to correct her. Not that Molly would have listened. If there was one thing she cared about above all else, it was family. With Harry painted as a jealous idiot and Ginny free from blame, he could hardly blame her for how she reacted. But that hadn't meant that it hadn't hurt all the same.

Harry retrieved his drink, but instead of reclaiming his space on the armchair, he headed for the kitchen. George had made an instant beeline for Teddy, seeing the opportunity to deploy an easily influenced child on Hermione and was apparently unable to pass it up.

"You don't have to do all this, you know?" Harry asked as he entered the kitchen, his arms folded and leaning against the door, taking up a position he hoped that wouldn't get in the way of Andromeda.

"What kind of a host would I be if I didn't?" Andromeda countered in reply, as she levitated the food which she had been preparing on one countering onto the silver trays nearest the door.

"Fair point," Harry conceding knowing that he would not win. Andromeda was exceptionally stubborn and set in her ways. It was the whole reason that she had married Ted in the first place. Anyone else would have buckled under the pressure her mother had put on her, but not Andromeda. "Do you need a hand?"

"No, I'm nearly done," Andromeda replied. With anyone else, Harry might have pressed the issue, but he knew not to bother with Andromeda. She'd just tell him he was being too nice and force him to sit back and watch. "What was it you were trying to tell me earlier, anyway?" She asked, summoning various plates from around the kitchen before stacking them in a neat pile by the door. "Something about time-turners, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, not entirely sure where to go from there. He had been puzzling over how to tell Andromeda all day. He had eventually decided to just go with blunt honesty. The trouble with blunt honesty was that it was easy enough to say that he was going to do it, but quite another to actually get the words out of his mouth.

"Do you remember me telling you about Daphne's work with them?" Andromeda nodded, checking the cauldron that bubbled in the far corner. "Well, she was struggling to get volunteers to test them out. So… So I volunteered."

"You did what?" Andromeda frowned, her gaze snapping from the stew to Harry in an instant.

"I volunteered," Harry repeated before hurriedly adding, "it's safe. She's tested it out on a bunch of animals, so it's not like it's completely experimental."

"Harry, there's no such thing as safe with those things," Andromeda told him, her attention completely taken from the food that she was preparing. "There's a reason that people don't use them."

"Yes, they don't know how to." Harry pointed out. It was that simple. The actual technology itself was perfectly safe. The problems came because of what people could do with that power. Even the slightest thing could have cataclysmic effects. But that was because they'd travelled backwards, they were messing with time. But Harry wasn't going to be doing anything like that. "Daph does. It'll be fine."

"You trust her?" Andromeda asked.

"I do," Harry nodded. "She's spent months on this, it's safe."

"That's not the word I'd use to describe it," Andromeda said bitterly. "Those things are dangerous."

"What else could I do?" Harry demanded exasperatedly. "She needed my help."

"She could have found someone else." Andromeda argued.

"Maybe, but what if she didn't? What if no-one wanted to do it? What then? They'd cancel the project and all of that work would be for nothing. I can't let that happen. You should see her talk about it, I've never seen anyone be so excited about something. I couldn't just sit there when I knew there was something I could to help."

"You don't have to help everyone," Andromeda said.

"No, just the people who matter," Harry argued. He couldn't understand why Andromeda was making such a problem out of this. It was safe. It was in controlled conditions, Daphne knew what she was doing. He had to help her.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you're having feelings for her."

"What? No. We're just friends." Harry snapped with a little more anger than he had intended. But he couldn't help it. Stares from strangers were one thing, people who didn't know them. But it was something else to be constantly accused of having feelings for Daphne by people who should know that there was nothing there.

"Friends?" Andromeda repeated, her voice rising a little in frustration as she stared at him. "Harry, what you're doing here is dangerous. I know you think it's safe, but dress it up however you like - they're experimental. Just because they work on rabbits doesn't mean it'll work on you. You can't say for sure that it will, can you?"

Harry didn't say anything for a moment, he wanted to lie, say that there was no chance, no matter how small, that it was totally safe. But he couldn't. She was right. There were no guarantees. But that didn't mean that he wasn't going to help her.

"I thought not," Andromeda said trying to calm her voice when Harry didn't speak. "Harry, you could be risking your life for this girl and you're telling me that you don't have feelings for her?"

"I've done the same for Ron and Hermione," Harry argued.

"That was different, and you know it." Andromeda accused, her face tight and her eyes flashing. Every one of the Weasleys' thought that Molly was the worst woman in the world to cross. They were wrong.

"How?" Harry demanded, his temper fraying. He knew that she was just looking out for him, that all Andromeda was doing was caring about him. But he couldn't help it. This was his life. He was sick of people telling him how to live it. "How is this any different from then?"

"Because then you had no choice!" Andromeda snapped angrily, her voice rising once more. "You weren't the one putting your life on the line, you had it put there for you! You had no choice. He picked you. Not the other way around. You never volunteered for that and you only risked your life for Ron and Hermione because you had to. This is different. This isn't war. Okay, you might think that this is safer, and it probably is. But that doesn't change the fact that there's a chance that something could go wrong."

"But it won't," Harry retorted.

"I thought we'd already established that you can't say that for sure," Andromeda pointed out. She sighed, running a hand through her hair. Her eyes went soft as she looked at him. "Look, Harry, I've seen the way you that look at her. You might be able to fool yourself, but you can't fool me."

"I… I'm not." Why was this so hard to deny? It wasn't true. He wasn't looking for love. He didn't need anyone. No. That was a lie, and he knew it. He'd tried that before. Being alone. He didn't want to go back to that again.

"So you're going to tell me that you don't get excited every time you go to see her?" Andromeda asked before quickly cutting across his rebuttal. "And don't tell me it's the same as Ron and Hermione, because I know it's different. And so do you. You might not want to admit it, and I can't blame you, Harry. After what she did, I understand why you might want to avoid anything like that happening again."

"It's not like that," Harry tried, but his voice was weak. He couldn't deny what she had said. It was different. He had never been able to place his finger on why, but it was. Sure, he looked forward to spending time with Ron and Hermione, but with Daphne it felt different. Special. As if he never wanted to leave.

"So you're telling me that you've never once compared her to Ginny? You've never noticed that she's beautiful or seen something that nobody else does? Harry, you care about her - you could be risking your life for her. I know you don't think it is, but trust me, it really is. You wouldn't do that for anyone else. Don't you think it's time that you admit how you feel?"

Harry didn't say anything. He couldn't. The denials he wanted to say simply wouldn't come. It was as if his brain was frozen. Stunned. His eyes were locked on Andromeda but he wasn't truly seeing her. His thoughts were inescapably taken up by Daphne. The months that he had spent with her had been amazing. She found him when he had been lost in the ruin of himself, given him back his life, made him reach out to his friends, discover new ones. She had been at the root of so much for him. He changed his job and taken a whole new path. Why? Because he hadn't wanted to let go off the time that he could spend with Daphne. The times that could be. The days to come.

It felt as if had veil had been lifted inside his mind. All the thoughts that he had dismissed, all the times that he had cherished with her, they all pointed to the realisation of what he had been ignoring. That he couldn't deny any longer. He was falling in love with Daphne Greengrass.


	16. The Final

Chapter Sixteen: The Final

The week leading up the final went rather quickly for Harry. Matthews had him quickly to work, using him as her own pet practice dummy for nervous trainees. There was only a brief period where they held back, terrified about facing the savour of the wizarding world but after Harry had initially gone easy on them, they soon rose to the challenge. He couldn't remember the last time that he had gone home feeling so bruised and battered. What they lacked in skill and technique, Matthew's trainees made up for in sheer bloody mindedness and eagerness to impress. They quickly went from scared to wanting to impress Harry, a change which left him desperately trying to find the correct balance of defending himself but not taking it so seriously that he caused them serious harm. He might have had a few months off but he was still a fully trained auror after all. Couple that with a childhood that had left him facing a megalomaniac with a snake obsession and it was little wonder that he was leaps and bounds ahead of the recruits.

But despite his newfound profession of trainee punching bag, Harry struggled to stay entirely focused on his work. When he wasn't having curses and hexes thrown at him, his mind was irrevocably drawn to Daphne and the confession which Andromeda had forced out of him. It wasn't that she was wrong, quite the opposite. The problem came from what the hell he was supposed to do now. Living in blissful ignorance, Harry decided, had been far easier. Back then he had simply dismissed how he felt about Daphne as nothing more than close friendship. That had been manageable. But this? This was nowhere near manageable. The primary issue was the World Cup, what had originally been a friendly and thoughtful birthday present had morphed into a blind panic about how to act.

It was different than how he had felt about Ginny. Before they'd got together, Harry had come to realise that he had barely known her. Sure they'd spent summers together, shared the same house and risked their lives in the Department of Mysteries or at the Battle of Hogwarts. But he had never really known who she was; what she loved, what she hated, her dreams what she dreamed of, none of it. That came later. They had never really been close friends. Daphne, on the other hand, had made herself essential to him. He didn't want to have to imagine his life without her in it. Her passion for her work, her love of Quidditch, her downright hatred of cooking or her family; all of things that made Daphne so her. The good and the bad. They were all the reasons behind why he felt like he did. It was somehow more intense than it had been with Ginny. Probably because he was actually close to Daphne and this wasn't just some teenage crush which later became something deeper, something important, something a part of him still regretted losing.

So come the Friday of the Quidditch World Cup final, with England having secured their place in the final three days earlier, Harry found himself sitting in Andromeda's front room staring at the fireplace but not really seeing it. Gone was the usual happiness which held his heart when he visited his godson. Instead, it had been replaced by a nervous tension that he wished he could banish. Teddy was blissfully unaware, being far too preoccupied with the school work which Andromeda insisted that he finish before being able to listen to the final. There was no such luck however, when it came to Andromeda.

"Nervous?" Andromeda asked from Harry's side when she had finally managed to settle Teddy down to the work that his maths teacher had set for him.

"Terrified," Harry admitted.

"She's still the same person that you've spent the last few months with," Andromeda pointed out.

"Yeah, but then I didn't feel like this," Harry said frustration tinting the edge of his words. He wished that Andromeda had never said anything, never forced him to see what he had been so happily ignoring for Merlin only knew how long. Somewhere along the line he had gone from simply being friends with Daphne to something more, but for the life of him he couldn't figure out when. It turned out that his feelings for her weren't attached to a switch that could be turned on and off. There had been no precise moment. It had just happened and he'd too wrapped up in the past to notice what had been sitting right in front of him.

"You're still friends Harry, just treat her like you always have," Andromeda suggested with the ease of the person giving the advice and not the one who had to live the awkward situation. Words were easy, actions not so much. "Or you could actually say something. You never know, she could feel the same."

"No."

"No she couldn't feel the same?" Andromeda asked. "Or no you aren't going to say anything?"

"Both," Harry answered glumly.

"With that attitude you're never going to take this further."

"I'm not even sure that's what I want," Harry protested. The truth was he had no idea where he wanted any of this to go. It had crept up on him, taken him by surprise and left him flailing in the uncertainty of knowing that one false step could change everything.

"Of course it is," Andromeda snapped as gently as it was possible to whilst holding on to her temper. "People don't just have feelings like this because they want things to stay the same. I know you don't want to spoil it. But Harry, trust me, sitting on it and letting it fester is worse. So you either do something, tell her how you feel, or you move on. There really isn't a third option here."

"I know you're right," Harry conceded, blowing out a sigh, his lips rippling together as he did so. "But that doesn't make this any easier."

"Who said it was meant to be easy?" Andromeda asked, a note of sympathy at the edge of her voice. If it was, it wouldn't be worth it. Besides you're lucky, at least the majority of your family doesn't hate her or think you're treacherous scum for abandoning your heritage. Trust me, Harry, that isn't easy and looking back I realised that was the point. While I understand that what you're going through is different, it is hard. Daphne is important to you, if she wasn't you wouldn't feel so strongly about her. You don't want to ruin what you have, but doing this, wallowing and worrying, that's going to do exactly that."

"I'm not wallowing," Harry tried to argue defiantly. He knew it was a lie though. He had been ever since Andromeda had forced the confession from his lips. As had happened with Ginny, his age old habit of turning in on himself and not opening up to his friends had reared its ugly head once more. The only one who knew about this was Andromeda herself, not Ron, Hermione or any of the others. Instead he'd let the problem consume him and let all his fears and doubts take hold. Again. So much for learning from his mistakes.

"You've been staring at the fire for the last ten minutes," Andromeda pointed out, as kindly as she could.

"What would you do?" Harry asked after a long moment.

"Tell her," Andromeda replied rather bluntly. "That way you both know where you stand. She might agree, she might not. But that's the risk you take."

Harry was saved having to give any further opinions on the matter by the small chiming of the clock striking the hour. That meant only one thing; it was time to leave. Getting to his feet and pulling on the best smile that he could for his godson, Harry rose from his seat and approached the young boy.

"Hey kiddo," Harry said when he had lowered himself to eyelevel with Teddy. "I'm going to have to go now, but I'll see you soon. Promise to look after grandma for me?"

Teddy nodded obediently and with all the enthusiasm that Harry had come to associate with him. Despite everything Teddy had always managed to be amazing; joyful and happy, a light out of all the darkness that had come before him. It still astounded Harry and he supposed that it always would. It was a part of why he loved his godson more than anything else on the planet. He had been born of war, a war that had tainted everything it touched with an irremovable darkness. Yet Teddy was so beautifully pure, the only good thing to come from that time.

"Promise," Teddy grinned before sticking out his small arms, waiting expectantly for a hug from his godfather who readily obliged. When the hug was over Harry stepped back and gave his godson a smile and a small wave before heading for the fire.

"When are we going to see you?" Andromeda asked as she handed him the jar of floo powder that she kept on the mantle. She wasn't overly fond of people using the floo network as it made a mess of her living room, but allowed its use on rare occasions.

"Sunday," Harry answered as briefly as he could, it was a loaded question. He knew where this was going. He had been hoping to completely avoid the topic of Daphne's experiment. But Andromeda had a way of forcing him to discuss everything which he did not want to talk about. "Should be the evening, if that's okay?"

"Of course," Andromeda nodded. "Promise me you'll be careful."

"I promise," Harry answered. This wasn't the time for joking. While he couldn't understand why Andromeda was making such a big deal out of it, he could never begrudge her the sentiment behind it: she worried because she cared. Over the last few years the two of them had become closer than Harry had ever anticipated they would. Mrs Weasley had once claimed that viewed Harry as her son, and while Harry's relationship with the Weasley matriarch was somewhat strained, he had no doubt that Andromeda shared Mrs Weasley's maternal feelings.

"Good," Andromeda said before quickly adding, "Off you go, have fun."

"Thanks, see you," Harry smiled, giving her a small wave before throwing the floo powder into the grate and stepping into the emerald flames, clearly pronouncing his destination and vanishing from sight.

After the usual sight of grates and the dizzying sensation associated with most means of magical transportation, Harry was thrown with force into the living room of Greengrass manor. He stumbled, did his best to regain his balance and grabbed the nearest thing he could find which happened to be a leather armchair.

"Graceful as ever," Daphne commented from her position on the sofa opposite him. One of her legs was curled under herself, the other just about brushing the carpet. A playful smirk pulled at her lips as she placed a bookmark into the pages of the book on her lap.

"Grace is over-rated," Harry shrugged, brushing himself down and internally cursing as he realised the magnitude of the mess that his arrival had caused. Soot was strewn all over the light coloured carpet and had manged to plaster itself all over his jacket. Mentally berating himself, Harry pulled out his wand and set about clearing up the chaos that he had caused.

"I don't know why dad chose that colour carpet," Daphne said when Harry had finished cleaning up the mess that he had made. "You should've seen the state of it before Tori's wedding. Tisly had a fit, banned us from coming in until she'd fixed it."

"Sounds like my aunt," Harry commented as Daphne got to her feet. The evening was warm for England and according to the weather reports it was even warmer in France. As a result Daphne had chosen to forgo robes and instead was wearing a summer dress that Harry vaguely remembered seeing in one of the shops in London a few weeks previously. Clearly, their little excursions into Muggle London were having more of an effect on the eldest Greengrass than she let on. Not that Harry was complaining, she looked amazing. Even more beautiful than usual. How had he never noticed it before?

"Was she a cleaning obsessed house-elf too?" Daphne asked sarcastically.

"You're closer than you think," Harry replied. Daphne grimaced, as Harry had come to learn she was not what anyone would describe as clean. Far from it. Instead, Daphne favoured her own brand of organised chaos. For someone who loved structure in her life, planned everything in meticulous detail, it was surprising how much she avoided tidiness.

"When are we leaving?" Harry asked.

"A few minutes, we're booked for five past." Daphne answered before reaching down and picking up a very old and very battered mug from the coffee table which sat in the middle of the room. "Think it's conspicuous enough?"

"No-one's pinching that," the mug looked as if it belonged in a muggle museum about the First World War more than a kitchen. Any pattern that it had once had had long since faded and the rim was chipped and cracked. Anyone who thought it'd be a good idea to drink out of it would be sorely mistaken.

"Excellent," Daphne said, "let me just get a bag and some shoes and I'm all yours."

With that she turned on her heel and headed out of the living room, missing the frown that creased Harry's brow. He sighed slightly, this wasn't going to be easy. Andromeda was right; he just had tell her. And he would… just not right now. Later. Definitely later. Getting a grip of himself Harry followed Daphne into the huge hallway that served as the entrance to Greengrass manor. Without the hundreds of guests that had filled it the last time that Harry had visited, it became clear just how gigantic it really was. Harry sometimes forgot that Daphne's family was so rich, mainly because she didn't act like the typical pureblood princess. But then again, Daphne wasn't the typical anything.

"I thought you'd gone," a voice said from a door way further down the hall. Harry turned to see Matthias Greengrass standing there, a drink in his hand and a gentle smile on his face.

"Without saying goodbye?" Daphne remarked as she drew her wand and with a flick summoned a delicate pair of sandals and small leather brown handbag. "What do you take me for?"

"Busy?" Matthias suggested, "Preoccupied? Otherwise engaged? There's a whole list if you'd like."

"I'm good," Daphne said, rolling her eyes at her father's antics.

"Shame, I had a speech laid out and everything," Matthias grumbled with mock annoyance before shifting his gaze to Harry. "Where are my manners, how are you Harry? Excited for the game?"

"I think that's a bit of an understatement," Harry grinned. He had been looking forward to the match all week. Despite whatever it was that was going on with Daphne, it couldn't stem his boyish excitement about the match. According to the Weasley's it had been generations since England had done any good, usually getting knocked out early or just before the final. Ron couldn't remember them ever getting that far.

"Thank Merlin, you won't mind Daphne's rants then, she's been going on at me all week about it."

"They are not rants," retorted an irate Daphne from the stairs where she had sat down to put on her sandals.

"Maybe not from where you're sitting," Matthias argued. "You don't have to listen to it."

"And whose fault is it that I got into Quidditch in the first place?" Daphne asked as she got to her feet and slipped her wand into the tiny handbag.

"That's not the point," Matthias dismissed with a wave of his hand.

"I think it's exactly the point," Daphne said, before adding quickly, "but, as much as I'd love to have this argument, dear father of mine, we've got somewhere to be."

"Right, yes, of course." Matthias nodded quickly. "You kids have fun."

"See you later, Dad," Daphne said shaking her head as she did so. He gave them both a wave and retreated back into the room that he had come from. Harry had given up trying to map out the manor in his mind without further exploration. "Sometimes, I wonder how I'm so well-adjusted."

"Luck?" Harry suggested garnering a small smirk from the eldest Greengrass daughter as she held out the mug for him to hold. Almost as soon as Harry's hand touched the ceramic surface it happened. The all too familiar jerking of his naval, the rushing sensation as the world blurred and then the hard realisation that all matter wasn't fluid as he slammed into the ground, staggered and fell over.

"You really can't tell you were raised by muggles," Daphne commented from somewhere above him as Harry swore under his breath. He hated magical travel. "You hide it so well."

"At least they don't try and kill you every time you want to go anywhere," Harry muttered darkly before getting to his feet.

"And yet they waste so much of their lives travelling," Daphne pointed out. "I'll take instant over boring."

_Only because you don't know any better,_ Harry thought idly. It was a common attitude that he had discovered in most purebloods. No matter how open-minded they were, somewhere a small part of them thought that magic was simply better. There was no getting around it. Daphne had come to embrace some aspects of that world, but Harry suspected that she would always prefer the familiar.

"Tickets please," a bored looking man said from his position in a small hut. Daphne quickly rummaged around in her bag, procuring the tickets and handing them over to the man. He glanced at them, ripped a small section off of each and handed them back to Daphne. "Zat way." He continued, pointing vaguely over his shoulder. "Portkey?"

Daphne handed it over, the man threw it into a large box and then went back to staring off into the distance.

"So much for job satisfaction," Daphne commented dryly once they were out of earshot of the grumpy ticket attendant. The conversation soon steered away from the manners of the staff, however, and instead shifted towards the game. Matthias had been right. Once on the topic of the team, it was difficult to get Daphne to stop. Not that Harry minded. He enjoyed listening to her. Any nerves that he had been feeling vanished as he walked with Daphne, the familiar sense of comfort washing over him as they proceeded down dirt path that led towards the campsite.

The walk didn't take long and soon Daphne and Harry were overwhelmed by witches and wizards running about in different directions. The match was about to start and everyone was trying to grab as much merchandise as they could before they headed to the stadium.

"What're you getting?" Harry asked as he led the way to a man whose stall was less busy than the others due to the fact that it was situated slightly further away from the main camp itself. No doubt he would catch the passing trade as people poured into the stadium.

"I hadn't really planned on getting anything," Daphne shrugged.

"Oh, come on, you've got to get something, it's all part of it," Harry protested, "I've still got my hat from last time somewhere, and I know for a fact that Ron's still got his miniature of Viktor Krum."

"He got a what?" Daphne asked evidently dumb-founded by this nugget of information.

"You heard, it flies and everything," Harry grinned, "mind you, he wouldn't even look it at for years but that's a different story."

"I'm amazed it's lasted this long," Daphne said, eying a tiny roaring lion with mild interest. "The spell should've worn off by now, surely."

"Well, technically, it didn't, he smashed it into tiny pieces," Harry admitted. "It was only because Hermione found it at the bottom of his trunk that he's still got it. But, you can't not buy something."

"That double negative actually hurt," Daphne complained. "What are you getting?"

Harry paused for a moment, examining the cart. His eyes were drawn to a gigantic, and hopefully roaring, lion hat sitting at the end of the front row. The vivid memory of Luna Lovegood's homemade and frankly ludicrous hat filling his mind, Harry stepped forwards, the money already in his hand.

"You look ridiculous," Daphne laughed as Harry proudly put the red and white lion hat firmly on his head.

"That's the point," Harry countered happily. He had spent all week being serious, responsible and adult for the benefit of a highly-strung auror and her trainees, it was about time he got to have some fun. That and Teddy would love it. "So, what are you getting?"

"You're not going to give this up, are you?"

"Nope," Harry grinned.

"Fine," Daphne said, rolling her eyes in what Harry knew was mock annoyance. Given that she was supposedly against the idea, it transpired that Daphne bought more than Harry did. Despite his attempts to make her appreciate the hat, Daphne refused to get one. Though she did invest in the tiny lion, a pair of ominoculars, a rosette – which she claimed was for Tracey- and an England badge which she pinned to her dress.

Their shopping trip was cut short by a loud voice saying, first in French and then in English, 'Five minute warning, could all supporters make their way to their seats.' Harry and Daphne soon found themselves being whisked away in a stream of excited fans, Daphne struggling to retrieve her tickets so as they could find their seat numbers in the throng of eager supporters. She glowered at one particularly exuberant American fan who seemed to forget that bouncing off people went unappreciated by those whose day he was interrupting. But even his rudeness could not deflate her mood as they climbed the many stairs up into the stadium. A huge grin had spread across her face as she led him to their seats. Somewhere along the way, Harry wasn't entirely sure when, she had taken his hand to stop them getting separated. He felt his heart beat quicken and his throat run dry. How had he manged to lie to himself for this long?

The crowd was slowly getting louder and louder as they eventually managed to get to the top of the stairs and made their way to the seats that Daphne had bought. Unlike the last time that Harry had been to a World Cup game they were not seated in the ministerial box. Instead, they joined the rest of the crowd, half way up the end which housed the England supporters. It was far noisier, crowded and less intimate than the ostentatious box, but that if anything made it better. Here he and Daphne were a part of the game. Across from them Harry could see a wall of red, white and blue. The Americans. A huge American flag levitated high above them, a sign of patriotic feeling which was mirrored by the English fans further down the stadium. The two gigantic flags were coupled with thousands of smaller flags held by individual fans showing that the stadium was awash with patriotism and hope that both nations would walk away with the cup. But only one could.

"What do you think?" Daphne asked when they had found their seats and made a few people stand up so as they could squeeze past to their designated seats.

"It's amazing," Harry beamed, raising his voice so as to be heard over the cacophony of noise that was being made by the English. "I still can't believe you managed to get tickets!"

"I'm just glad you like it," Daphne told him.

"Why wouldn't I? Great match, great company, what's not to love?" The words were out of his mouth before he had any time to filter them. But judging from the smile on her face and the lack of suspicion Daphne hadn't noticed the double meaning to his words, even if it was true. He could think of nothing he would rather be doing, and more importantly of anyone he would rather being doing it with.

"It's true, I am pretty amazing," Daphne said, swinging her hair back so as she looked like a perfume model.

Harry was saved replying by the booming voice of none other than their old schoolmate and now professional commentator Lee Jordan. Each section of the stands had been fitted with speakers, allowing the fans to listen to their own specific commentary on the game. It was a new system which had been introduced that year, and while it no doubt costed a little more, the fans had loved it. It also had the added bonus of meaning that Lee could be as biased as he liked without receiving complaints for such behaviour, like he had done at previous matches.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the final of the Quidditch World Cup!" Lee's voice yelled enthusiastically through the speakers. The fans roared. Most leapt to their feet as they cheered and soon Daphne and Harry were forced to follow suit as the pitch was obstructed by the back of too many peoples' heads. "My name is Lee Jordan and I'll be your commentator for this evening's game, England versus America!" Another cheer met his words. "Now, put yours wands in the air and welcome onto the pitch: England! Captaining tonight – Clarke."

A shot of white flew from the low entrance onto the pitch. Clarke came to a slow hover in front of the England fans who shrieked and yelled at their captain.

"Joining her are Scott!" Another white-clad player hurtled out onto the pitch. Harry noticed that the American team was doing this at the same time. Gone were the processions of mascots, which had preceded the match last time. After the violence that ensued almost every game where mascots were involved the International Association of Quidditch had banned them from games and, if the Bulgaria/Ireland game had been anything to go by, with good reason. "Houghton, Brady, Williams, Taylor and Carney!"

The English team, a mixture of men and women much like the Gryffindor team that Harry had been a part of during his time at Hogwarts, lapped up the applause from their fans before taking their positions in their half of the pitch.

"And playing for the USA," Lee said with much less enthusiasm, "we have, Howard, Dempsey, Rourke, Hitchens, Crane, Stone and Jackson. Jackson against Carney in that all important chase for the snitch tonight. Jackson's not been in the best form of late so let's hope that continues tonight!" That earned Lee a laugh from the England fans, Harry among them. He was glad to see that Lee hadn't lost his trademark opinionated style despite the big occasion.

"Refereeing the game today: Jurgen Schmit," the referee was a stocky mass of black amidst the clashing waves of white and red. A silver whistle was pursed between his thin lips. Sharp blue eyes glanced at both sides warily as he kicked open the crate that contained the balls. The snitch and bludgers whizzed into life and shot into the air. Schmit picked up the quaffle before kicking off and flying to the centre of the pitch. There was sharp in-take of breath as all eyes focused on Schmit, followed by a whistle blow and the quaffle being hurled into the air.

"And we're off!" Lee screamed, "England winning the first ball. Goes to Houghton! Scott! Back to Houghton, lovely reverse pass there. Houghton to Clarke. Clarke dummies to Scott, dodges one, no two bludgers! To Scott now. Scott scores!" The stadium erupted as the first points of the game went to England. "And that's a fantastic shot from Scott! Howard was never getting there, not in a million years! 10-0 England!"

"Now it's with USA, Dempsey to Rourke, to – No, it's intercepted, now England have it with Scott, to Clarke, back to Scott. Houghton now. Clarke takes over, lovely dodge there, with Scott. She's going for it again! Yes! Scott scores again! Alex Scott for England. What a game she's having! The Americans just can't get near her!"

The game progressed in a similar fashion, the English chasers putting more and more pressure on the USA as Lee's commentary got slowly more and more supportive of the English and less professional about the American's. Rourke's poorly timed tackle on Alex Scott, which almost sent the English chaser off her broom, caused Lee to shout outraged at the referee. England soon got their revenge with a timed, and deliberately late, bludger from Taylor which Lee tried to claim was all part of the game but which the referee saw as a distinct foul as Rourke didn't even have the quaffle.

As the match got faster and faster, the USA began to show just why they were finalists too. Brady managed some excellent saves but even he couldn't keep them all out and soon it was neck and neck. Both sets of chasers were fighting with all they had and the beaters on each side were landing blow after blow, not always going for players who had the quaffle as the game got dirtier. Fouls racked up, and at one point play was suspended so as Scott could receive treatment for a bludger to the head that had sent her plummeting off her broom. Not that that stopped her. Within minutes she was back on her broom, much to the delight of Lee and the apparent concern of the English staff.

"150-130," Lee recapped as England slammed home another goal. "England leading by just twenty points! C'mon Carney, find the snitch!" Lee's words were practically prophetic, no sooner had they left his mouth than Carney had launched into a dive. "He's seen it! Carney's seen it!" The entire crowd seemed to forget the rest of the game, all eyes were on Carney as the English seeker hurtled down, Jackson hot on his tail.

"Where is it?" Daphne yelled, standing on her chair so as to see over the shoulder of the man in front of her.

"There!" Harry shouted, pointing to bottom of one of the American goal hoops.

"They're going to crash!"

Daphne was only half-right, Jackson, misjudging the distance between his broom and the base of the hoop was sent spinning off into the ground with a sickening thud as his broom clipped the base. But Carney was still going, the snitch changed course, rocketing upwards. Carney flipped, his broom parallel with the hoop as he hurtled skyward, one arm extended. A bludger missed him by inches and a second rattled off the hoop as the American beaters tried desperately to stop the inevitable.

"He's done it!" Lee yelled as Carney's fingers closed around the golden snitch a millisecond before he hurtled into an unaware Howard who had dived to save the quaffle from being thrown into the hoop that Carney's break-neck pursuit had led him up. Any sound of the collision was drowned out as the English section of the crowd erupted. Fans leapt up and down. Someone grabbed hold of the person next to them and hugged them. Tears split, shouts burst from the lips of delighted supporters as Lee continued to commentate. "Carney's done it! England win! 300 to 130! You heard all the doubts, all the people who failed to believe. Well believe now! England are world champions!"

Harry felt arms wrap around him as Daphne hugged him. He found himself hugging her back as he practically screamed himself horse. They had actually managed it. After all the build-up. All the pressure, and doubts as England had prepared to face serial World Cup winners the United States of America, none of that mattered anymore. They had won. Against all odds England had actually won. Despite having failed to win anything for generations and being the underdogs throughout the tournament they had won. Fairy tales, it turned out, really could come true.

oOo

"I still can't believe he crashed, who hits a giant fifty-foot hoop. They're not exactly easy to miss." Daphne said exasperatedly, continuing the conversation that she and Harry had been having ever since they had left the ground and made their way back to Greengrass Manor. Unlike almost every other fan they weren't staying for the after-party, so instead of reminiscing about the game in a field in France, Daphne and Harry were discussing it in the privacy of her kitchen.

"You try flying that fast," Harry pointed out. "It's not as easy as it looks."

"He's a professional Quidditch player," Daphne countered, "isn't he meant to be used to it?"

"You'd think so," Harry admitted. "Good thing he did though, made winning for us easier."

"We'd have won anyway," Daphne said with a lot less confidence than her words suggested. It was the lack of faith that only a true England fan, who had been subjected to years of failure and the ability to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory, could have. "Do you want a drink or anything, by the way?"

"Tea, thanks," Harry replied, leaning against the counter as Daphne drew her wand and flicked it at the stove, lighting it. He had always been mildly fascinated by how wizards and witches cooked. Everything seemed to need to involve magic, even if there was no actual need for it. Magic was something different to them, it had always been there, a cornerstone of their lives. For Harry, it had been something wonderful and astounding. It still was and as such it wasn't his first instinct to solve any problem.

"Are you sure you're still okay for tomorrow?" Daphne asked once she had finished making the tea, filling the silence that had drawn out between them.

"I'm sure," Harry nodded. It was the first time that Daphne had sought to discuss the topic ever since they had agreed on the finer details a few days previously. She had seemed so confident, so sure of herself. But as he looked at her now, he couldn't see any of that. "Why?"

"I don't know, it's just talking about it was fine but now that it's actually here, it feels… strange. I'm actually kind of nervous." Daphne admitted.

"Good to know you're just like the rest of us then," Harry said, trying to inject some kind of levity into her mood.

"Harry, I'm serious, I never feel like this. Never. Before every other test I've done I've always felt so sure it's going to work, but now…"

"It's probably just because you've put so much effort into it," Harry tried, "I mean, Luidhard's tried to close you down about what five, ten times?"

"That's not it," Daphne sighed, setting down her mug and rubbing her eyes. "Okay, yeah, maybe it is a little bit but not really." Harry stared at her, confusion causing his brow to furrow. He had never seen her like this. Ever. Daphne had always been so cocksure, so sure of herself when it came to her work. Nothing had stopped her. Anyone else wouldn't have bothered to carry on after so many set-backs, but not Daphne. She'd ploughed on, never once doubting herself.

"You know what? Forget it," Daphne muttered. "It's stupid, I'm being stupid. Just forget I said anything."

"No way, Daph I-"

"Leave it, Harry, just leave it, please?"

"No, not if there's something I can -"

"I said leave it!" Daphne snapped, her temper flaring and her jaw going tight as she turned the glare that he had seen her use so many times on other people turned on him. "This isn't your problem, okay? You can't fix everything, Harry!"

"I never said I could," Harry protested as gently as he could, his own temper beginning to fray. What the hell was going on? They'd been having a nice time, a great time. Where was this even coming from? "Daph, what's wrong?"

"Nothing!" Daphne shouted. "Alright? It's nothing, and even if it was, there's nothing you can do. So, for once just drop it, okay?"

"What do you mean for once?" Harry asked indignantly, his own voice rising now. "All I'm doing is trying to help you."

"Yeah, well I don't need your help, Harry! Actually, you know what? I don't need anyone's help. So thanks, but no thanks."

"What the hell has gotten into you?" Harry demanded.

"Are you not listening? Nothing! I said, nothing!"

"I'll start listening when you start making sense!" Harry shouted back.

"Then you're going to be waiting some time," Daphne retorted exasperatedly, as if somehow Harry was the one in the wrong. He wanted to shout back, to get the bottom of all of this. But memories of arguments with Ginny came flooding to the surface of his mind, of nights spent trying to get to the bottom of her rage or her fury that in her stubbornness she had refused to talk about. Hours had dragged by as Harry had tried all the words he could think of and eventually she would talk. But that had been the old Harry, the one who hadn't grown sick of lies and half-truths. As much as a part of him still wanted to stand there, to try and talk it through with Daphne, the rest of him was tired of fighting.

"Fine," Harry said, letting out a sigh and setting down the drink he had long since forgotten about. "Have it your way."

And with that he turned on his heel and headed out of Greengrass Manor. He knew that she wouldn't follow. Her pride wouldn't allow it. Daphne valued her independence far more than anything else, she wouldn't come chasing after him just as much as he refused to cave or relent after a life time of solving other people's problems. Gone were the imagined possibilities of what he had hoped would come of their outing. Instead, Harry found himself walking away from the woman that only hours earlier he had shared an amazing evening and wondering just where it had all gone wrong.

**AN: Sorry everyone for the huge wait on this chapter, life has been crazy but hopefully everything should be back on track. Hope you guys like it, thanks everyone for your reviews and favourites. They are immensely appreciated! **


	17. The Morning After

Chapter Seventeen: The Morning After

Why? Why for once could she not just be a normal person and react in a normal way? Questions that had no answers raced around Daphne's mind as she stared at her breakfast. Ever since Harry had left she had been demanding answers of herself, reasons for why she had just let him leave instead of explaining to him just what had caused her outburst in the first place. It was him. Harry. He was the reason she was so nervous and worried about the experiment. Normally the people that were at risk were people she didn't know and that allowed for a certain amount of distance. But not this time. No, because for whatever stupid reason she had told herself Daphne had been convinced she could split work and her personal life. But as the time got closer and closer her fears had increased. Instead of letting Harry know this though, or even admitting it to herself until it was too late, she had lashed out at him. Fear of losing him and perhaps been the thing that had actually pushed him away. _Great job,_ Daphne berated herself glumly as she pushed away her untouched food.

"Good morning," Daphne's father said brightly as he walked into the kitchen, the paper under his arm and a grin on his face, a grin which dissolved as soon as his eyes fell on his daughter. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," Daphne tried. She was lying… again. Because it had worked so well last time. It was like a reflex; she couldn't help it. She sighed, rubbing her temple and turning to look at the worried face of her father. "Actually, no. It is something."

"What happened?"

"Harry and I kind of got into a fight," Daphne said in an attempt to explain.

"Over?" Her father prompted, taking a seat next to her.

"Today," Daphne answered, "I told him I was nervous about it and he asked why and I couldn't tell him. But he kept pushing and pushing and I get that he was just trying to be nice -"

"But it just pushed you too far," Daphne's father finished. She nodded, not wanting to admit it out loud. It was stupid, she'd been stupid. All Harry had done was to try and help and she had bitten his head off in return. She had just wanted him to leave it alone, but true to form Harry had been incapable of doing what he was told.

"Why were you nervous?" He asked gently, probing as delicately as he could.

"I don't want it to go wrong," Daphne explained.

"But I thought you said it was safe?" her father replied, somewhat confused.

"It is," Daphne said exasperatedly. For an exceptionally intelligent man he could also be amazingly dense at times. Was it really that difficult?

"Then what's the problem?"

"Harry. Every time I think about it, I keep wondering what if something happens to him?"

"Oh," her father said, the fog of confusion lifting from his mind and being replaced with evident concern and understanding. Of course he understood, it was the same conversation that Daphne had overheard her parents have countless times: her mother worried and scared that every time that he left the house he might not be coming back. Daphne hadn't understood at the time but now she was putting someone she cared about in danger it was impossible not to see where her mother had been coming from. "Why not just tell him?"

"Have you met Harry? He'd just worry and want to fix it like he always does. But, that'd just make it worse." Daphne explained. She didn't want to have to face his concern and his worry. He would have wanted to stay, to talk it out and make her face up to her fears; the last thing that she wanted to do. So instead of being rational and logical, she had exploded and pushed him away.

"Do you think he'll still come today?" Her father asked, filling the silence that had dragged out between them.

"I don't know, maybe." Daphne shrugged in reply. In all honesty she didn't have a clue whether he would. He was doing it as a favour to her, but would he still want to after last night? "We didn't really talk it out, he just sort of left."

"He'll be there," her father assured her. "He doesn't strike me as the kind of man who quits just because everything isn't perfect."

"The phrase you're looking for is stubborn," Daphne told him a little bitterly. As much as she was frustrated and angry at herself for her reaction, she also couldn't shake her annoyance with Harry for not backing down despite her asking him to.

"You're hardly one to talk,"

"Thanks Dad, because that's really what I need to hear right now," Daphne said sourly, doing her best to ignore the fact that he had a point.

"I think it is; the only reason all this happened is because you didn't want to tell him you were scared about today going wrong." When Daphne didn't say anything he continued, "Do yourself a favour and tell him. Today, before all this happens. He'll understand."

"And if he doesn't?"

"If everything you've told me about him is true, I think he will." Her father said. "But if he doesn't, then he probably just needs time to calm down. You'd be amazed what a little time to think can do. Speaking of time, don't you have somewhere to be?"

Daphne frowned and then glanced at the clock on the wall. Her bitter reverie had caused her to completely lose track of the time and instead of being early for her own experiment she would have to rush to even manage to get there to see it happen. Rushing had never been her strong suit and by the time she made it to the unsurprisingly packed atrium Daphne had mere minutes to get down to the Department of Mysteries. This resulted in pushing, shoving and bad-tempered lift ride in which she was sure almost every single other Ministry employee shuffled to the other side of the lift so as to ensure that they didn't have to meet her dark glower. For the first time she hated just how far down the Department of Mysteries was. Usually she enjoyed its location as it meant she could be left alone, detached from the rest of the Ministry but today was a different matter.

"You're late," Luidhard informed her when she arrived out of breath and almost out of time. He was standing outside the door to the observation room.

"Really? I hadn't noticed," Daphne retorted angrily, venting her own annoyance at herself onto her uncharismatic and infuriating superior. She ignored his spluttering and attempts to assert his authority and instead turned to the door to her right and headed inside the lab. It was just as she had left it the previous day, a single chair sat alone in the middle of the room, every other piece of furniture had been removed except for a wide table which stood against the far wall. On the table was the culmination of months and months of work: her time-turner. The metal of the outer edges shone and gleamed in the light as two Unspeakables examined it with their wands, making sure that everything was in order.

In the centre of the room stood Miller, his robes missing as usual and his face as unlikely as ever to crack a smile. He turned at the sound of the opening door, giving Daphne the slightest of nods before returning to going through the protocols and procedures with the man in the chair- Harry. So he had come after all. His emerald eyes stayed fixed on the ground as Daphne entered, but she had expected nothing less.

Daphne turned her attention to the men and women standing behind the glass that protected the observation room. Most of them were other Unspeakables who had come to watch, but some were the heads of various other departments who had a potential interest in her work, Daphne vaguely recognised a few of them, others were completely new to her but one particular woman stood out from the crowd: Hermione Granger, head of the Department for International Magical Cooperation. The potential far-reaching consequences of Daphne's work would, of course, draw the interest of other nations. No doubt that was where Hermione came in, but her appearance did little to calm Daphne's mood. _No pressure. _

"How is it looking?" Daphne asked taking a somewhat tentative step into the middle of the room.

"Normal," was all Miller said in reply, passing Daphne a sheet of paper. She didn't bother to look at it, she knew what it was. Before every test the person undertaking it was first subjected to a routine medical. It was nothing out of the ordinary but it covered the department in case they had any pre-existing medical issues.

"As I was saying," Miller continued, turning back to Harry, "this is experimental technology, we cannot guarantee your safety. Your continued participation in this experiment shows that you are aware of any potential risks to your person. Are you sure that you wish to continue?"

"Yes," Harry nodded.

"Do you have any questions?" Miller asked, as he had to. It was all part of the procedure. Daphne knew that by this point Harry had already signed his waver, meaning that he couldn't sue the department if anything went wrong and the was accepting the risks of dealing with experimental technology. Verbal confirmation was necessary as Miller would have then gone on to explain the various potential ramifications. Next, Daphne knew, came the test itself.

"No," Harry answered.

"Very well then, Civet, if you wouldn't -"

"Actually, I'd like a word with Harry before we start," Daphne interjected, noting the way Harry's face went tight and his jaw clenched. So much for having calmed down. But her father was right. She needed to say it anyway, leaving it would only cause him to fester on it and that helped no-one.

"You are aware that Luidhard wanted this done as quickly as possible?" Miller asked, arching an eyebrow. It wasn't an objection, merely a statement of fact.

"It's time-travel, what's a minute going to matter when all this is done?" Daphne countered.

"Very true," Miller nodded, his eyes shifted to Civet who seemed desperate not to catch the uncouth Unspeakable's eye, but to no avail. Daphne was sure that she saw Civet mutter what her family would call uncivilised language as Miller strode over and began demanding a thorough run through of his preparation with the time-turner.

"I wasn't sure you'd come," Daphne began while Miller irately and patronisingly went through Civet's work, much to Civet's annoyance. "You know, after everything."

"Yeah, well I promised, didn't I?" Harry shrugged trying to make his words as noncommittal as possible.

"I'm sorry," Daphne said quickly, the words tumbling out of her mouth. "About last night, I shouldn't have -"

"Bitten my head off?" Harry provided somewhat bitterly.

"Yeah," Daphne finished lamely, her eyes sinking to the floor and a sign escaping her lips. It hadn't been her proudest moment. She could still clearly see the look on his face, the hurt at first which had slowly turned to resignation. She hated the fact that she had done that to him. She wished she had followed him, let him know just why she'd reacted like she had. But her anger had been in control, blaming him for not leaving well alone and then her stubbornness and her pride hadn't allowed her to follow.

"It's fine," Harry said, shrugging again and in a voice which clearly indicated that it was anything but fine.

"No, it wasn't." Daphne protested. "Look, Harry, I know I can be difficult, and it wasn't anything you'd done, I was just -"

"What's the delay?" Interrupted a voice from the doorway: Luidhard. Of course it was him. Daphne didn't bother hiding her glower as she turned to him. Could he not just leave her alone for once? "These people have had to put a lot on hold to come down here, Greengrass."

"I understand that Sir but -"

"No buts, whatever it is sort it out on your own time." Luidhard snapped. "Civet, Miller, get this done. I want no more delays, Greengrass. Do I make myself clear?" When Daphne didn't reply, he spoke again. "Greengrass?"

"Yes sir," Daphne said through gritted teeth. She hated taking orders, especially from a self-centred git like Luidhard. He had always taken against her because he had convinced himself that she coasted through on her family name. Daphne hated him because he insisted on micro-management and results while at the same time having a worse personality that Narcissa Malfoy.

He gave a little nod and hurried away, no doubt to go and assure various department heads that they weren't wasting their time. _Typical nonsense_, Daphne thought sourly.

"We'll talk about it later, I promise," was all she was able to say before being asked by Civet to take a step back and allow them to conduct her experiment. For once, Daphne did as she was told. There was no point in arguing. It wouldn't get her anywhere but further away from the test. Luidhard would see to that.

From her place at the room's edge Daphne watched as Civet put the time-turner over Harry's head, being delicate and precise so as not to accidentally knock anything. Miller's voice was dull and loud as he explained to the on-lookers what was about to happen. Harry would disappear, then reappear in a full minute, travelling forward in time. This would then be repeated with longer intervals to prove definitively that it worked.

Daphne zoned this out; she had heard it all before. Hell, she was the one who came up with the idea in the first place. Her eyes remained fixed on Harry. Despite all her talk that this was perfectly safe doubts were beginning to creep in at the back of Daphne's mind. But it _was_ safe. They had done all the checks, all the tests, background checks, everything. Nothing had been left to chance. Nothing. But the blurred line between professional and personal was causing her mind to race.

"Commencing in ten, nine, eight," Miller counted.

She was being stupid, there was nothing that could go wrong. Nothing. So why did Daphne feel so sick? Why did she want to call a halt to all of this? She could, it was her right, her damned experiment. Merlin she wanted to. But she stayed where she was, watching frozen as the countdown began and time began to run out. She had never felt like this. Never.

"Seven, six, five,"

It was different this time. She didn't want to risk Harry: he was important to her. It might have started out as nothing more than a whimsical way to pass a boring party but it had morphed into something more. Something that mattered. It was why she had snapped at him, why she had shouted. She didn't know any other way. It was the reason her family resented her and she had nearly pushed her sister away at the thought of her becoming a Malfoy. Instead of talking through her issues Daphne preferred to ignore them, make biting remarks or sarcastic comments to push past the pain that she felt.

"Four, three,"

It was stupid. She had been stupid and Harry deserved better. Why couldn't she just have told him? It had been a reflex, an attempt to try and push the problem away so that she didn't have to deal with it. Just like she always did. The thought of what she would do if she lost him terrified her. He meant more to her than she suspected he knew. He had a right to know and to know why she had lost her temper and lashed out. After all this was over she would tell him.

"Two, one."

And with that, Harry Potter vanished.

**AN: So that's this chapter done, I know it's a lot shorter than usual but it was originally intended to be the final part of the last chapter. However, it didn't feel like the natural end so now it's a chapter on it's own. Hope you all like it. **


	18. The Long Way Round

Chapter Eighteen: The Long Way Round

"Gone?" Ron Weasley echoed, "what d'you mean gone?"

Daphne couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes as the question broke the stunned silence of Andromeda Tonks' front room. Beside him sat Andromeda, her eyes were hard and her lips tight as she stared at Daphne. The light from the fireplace danced and flickered reflecting in them as they pierced Daphne's. She was silently wishing that she had taken Hermione up on her offer to tell them the news, but Daphne knew that it had to be her. It was her fault after all. No-one had forced her to accept his offer. It had been her choice and now she was living with the consequences.

"We've tried everything we can," Daphne heard herself reply, she was only dimly aware of saying them. It was almost as if someone else was talking for her. The world felt dull. Part of her hadn't wanted to believe it. Had she not been there, not seen it, then maybe she wouldn't. But she had. He had vanished, just like he should have done. But then the minute had passed. And another. And another. Realisation had been slow to take hold as Daphne had stared and hoped. But her hope had long since died, replaced with the unwanted truth. He was gone. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Ron repeated, the dullness edging out of his voice as anger took its place. "He trusted you and all you've got is sorry?"

"What else is there?" Daphne retorted fiercely, her own temper flaring at his words. Did he really think that she wanted this? It was everything that Daphne had dreaded, the one eventuality that she had hoped would never come to pass. Yet here they were. He was angry, she understood that, but she'd be damned if she was going to let him think that he was the only one who'd been affected. "I mean you think what exactly? That I'd just give up on him?"

"He shouldn't have been in there in the first place!" Ron snapped back, glowering at Daphne as his voice rose. "Did you even think what might happen? Nah, it wasn't not important what happened to Harry, was it? Just as long as your little experiment had a test subject you didn't care!"

"You don't know the first thing about me," Daphne seethed, glaring at the youngest male Weasley. He didn't have a single clue about Daphne, nor how she lived her life. Yet there he was, ready to pass judgement without knowing a thing about her.

"I know you were stupid enough to put him in there in the first place!"

"He volunteered you moron!"

"Course he did, it's Harry! What did you expect?" Ron raged, he was on his feet now his anger apparently limited by the confines of the sofa. "I bet that was all part of your plan, wasn't it? Make him think he was the only one that could help. You lot never change."

"My lot?"

"Slytherins! You're all the bloody same! Bunch of scheming nutters who only care about themselves." Ron ranted with the age old ignorance that Daphne recognised all too well. She heard herself laugh, but there was no humour in it, simply disbelief that he was actually spouting that nonsense.

"You seriously believe that?" Daphne asked, not quite able to believe her ears as she stared at Ron. "None of that matters, you pillock. In case you hadn't noticed Ron, this isn't all part of some great big scheme to off Harry. We're not all Death Eaters and you certainly don't have any kind of monopoly on missing him. It was an accident. That's it, alright? So don't you dare think for one second that I wanted this, this is last thing that I wanted."

"Then why did you even risk it?" Ron demanded. "If you actually cared about him you wouldn't have."

"It wasn't meant to go wrong," Daphne said slowly as if she was speaking to a child. She was sick of trying to be nice. He wasn't going to understand. He wanted someone to blame and he wasn't going to see that there was no-one who could fill those shoes. "As far as I knew it was safe. Do you understand what that means or do I need to explain it to you?"

Ron stared, his ears practically glowing they were so red, he huffed angrily, spluttering a little as words and retaliations tried desperately to form but died on the difficult journey from his brain to his mouth.

"I'll take that as a yes," Daphne continued scathingly. "Safe, Ron, means that I thought that Harry was in no danger. We did everything we could. Tests on animals, a medical on Harry, background checks to see if he'd used a time turner before. Everything."

"Why would that matter?" Ron asked quickly, his voice suddenly a lot quieter and tinged something else. Panic? "I mean it wouldn't make that much of a difference, would it?"

"It could make all the difference," Daphne began to explain but then she stopped, her brain catching up with exactly what Ron was getting at. "Wait – you're not saying he's used one before, are you?"

"Well yeah, kind of." Ron wilted a little under Daphne's gaze. "What does it matter, it was just one time."

"Have you not been listening? I mean, were you always this stupid or is this just a recent thing?" She knew she was being mean but her temper, which had been at breaking point all day, had finally snapped. "Of course it bloody matters! The time-turner we used today wasn't calibrated to factor in previous trips, the residual temporal energy alone could have caused all sorts of complications that we hadn't prepared for."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but haven't time-turners always been used to go backwards. Why would that be a problem now?" Andromeda Tonks asked speaking for the first time since Daphne had arrived. Her voice was level and calm, a drastic change from the abject fury of Ron. Had Daphne been paying more attention she might have noticed the steely glint in Andromeda's eye or the way that her jaw had up until that moment been clamped tightly shut. Instead Daphne's brain was too busy reeling from the revelation that Ron had dropped only seconds earlier and so she noticed nothing.

"Yes, but we haven't tested that yet." Daphne explained quickly as her brain raced at the implications of Harry having used a time-turner before. "We knew we could do that, so after we realised the range was always going to be small we didn't bother testing it again. We'd have factored previous trips in at a later point, of course, but because the regulation of time-turners is so strict anyway and because Harry never had one it never occurred to us that it would be an issue."

Daphne sighed, the pieces of the puzzle that had been driving her insane finally coming together. As defiant as she had been to Ron's accusations a part of her had blamed herself, she had assumed that she had missed something, a miscalculation or that it hadn't been fit for a human subject. But this, this could actually explain it. By the same token it could also be completely irrelevant, a coincidence which threatened to provide false hope in the absence to certainty. As much as Daphne wholeheartedly wanted to believe that the previous use of a time-turner was at the heart of this, it would have naïve of her to do so. Any sense of relief that she may have felt was soon quashed as her guilt returned.

"Where did he even get one from in the first place?" Daphne asked the room at large in an attempt to focus her mind on something other than the reason for his disappearance. But she didn't really need to ask Andromeda. There was one person alone in the room who would know. Her gaze fell on Ron and stayed there.

"Hermione," Ron answered a little sheepishly almost like a child who had been caught in a lie. "In third year, she'd been using it so she could go to all her classes." _Of course she did,_ Daphne thought glumly. A time-turner was an incredibly delicate and dangerous magical object that almost everyone agreed could cause catastrophic universe imploding damage in the wrong hands, and what did she use it for? Attending classes. "Then when the Ministry got hold of Sirius her and Harry went back to save him."

"So that's how he escaped," Daphne muttered, not being a part of Harry's tiny circle of friends at school she had been on the outside of his little adventures along with everyone else so had been party only to rumour and speculation.

"Look, what does this matter?" Ron demanded his anger, which had been suppressed by the sudden implication of Harry's past, returning.

"It matters because we might know why he disappeared."

"No," Ron snapped, shaking his head as he did so. "I know why he disappeared and it's not because of some stupid time-turner."

"Oh, then by all means, enlighten me." Daphne bit back, her own fury returning.

"You!" Ron roared, spittle flying from his mouth as he raged at Daphne. "This is your fault! Harry would never have been there if it wasn't for you! You put him there, you're the one that put him at risk and you're the one that lost him!"

"That's enough, Ron." Andromeda said coldly getting to her feet so as she was on eye-level with him. Andromeda had never struck Daphne as an intimidating woman, the only time they had met before she had seemed kind and warm. But that woman was gone and Daphne was left to watch as in the Black surfaced in Andromeda Tonks.

"But it's true!" Ron retorted. Daphne wanted to shout, to tell him that he was wrong. But she couldn't. The words wouldn't come because as much as she wanted to deny it, Ron was right. This was her fault. Accident or not she had been the one who had been the one who had allowed him to be in that position. So she had done every test they could and taken every precaution; so what? In the end none of that had mattered. All that mattered was that he was gone and that she had been the one responsible for it.

"I said that's enough."

"You can't be serious, you're not taking her side?"

"I'm not taking anyone's side," Andromeda told him in that same calm voice that she had used earlier, it was only now that Daphne could hear the quiet fury that lay underneath it. "But she's right Ron, you're not the only one that's going to miss Harry. So you either need to calm down or you get out of my house."

Ron was silent for a moment, staring incredulously at Andromeda as if waiting for her resolve to waver. When it did not Ron turned angrily on his heel and stalked from the room, a second later Daphne heard the front door slam. They stood there in an awkward silence. Andromeda breathed a sigh, her shoulders sagging slightly and suddenly she looked every bit the old woman that the years had made her.

"I told him it was dangerous," Andromeda said. She wasn't looking at Daphne, instead she was staring out of the window watching as Ron stormed away from her house. The sadness in her voice was practically tangible. "He knew the risk and he took it anyway."

"Why?" Daphne asked. At this point she wasn't even sure herself. If he had known it was dangerous why would he do it? Daphne had done it simply because she had been so confident that it would work. The risk had only seemed a danger to her because of who was taking it, not because she genuinely thought that it would happen.

"He must have thought it was worth it," Andromeda answered simply. Daphne didn't say anything. There was nothing she could say. The only reason that Harry had thought like that was because of her. He wouldn't have viewed the risk worthwhile if it had been anyone else. Would he even think that anymore? If or when he finally got home and saw the devastation his departure had caused would he take that same risk again; or would he regret his decision to help her? That was, of course, if he even came back at all.

"I'd better go and tell Hermione where Ron's gone," Andromeda said breaking the silence. "Merlin only knows what I'm going to tell Teddy."

"I could -"

"No," Andromeda interrupted quickly still refusing to look at Daphne. "You've done enough." Her words were scathing and harsh betraying the grief that was tearing at her heart. But then she sighed, finally turning her head to Daphne. Her dark eyes glistened slightly in the warmth of the firelight, the pain that she had been hiding threatening to break free. "Just go, please."

And with that Andromeda turned away and walked from the room leaving Daphne alone. Despite the warmth of the reds and oranges of the room the world appeared inescapably dull to Daphne, as if it had lost its vibrancy. Her heart heavy with regret and guilt Daphne headed for the fireplace, her hand reaching for the jar of floo powder which she knew rested above the fireplace. But as her hand reached for it her eyes wandered to the rest of the mantel. On it were pictures, framed slices of happiness, of a life before Daphne had met Harry. Teddy, Andromeda and Harry; a family. Happy. Content. Destroyed in a moment.

The hand which had been reaching for the floo powder went to the nearest photo, her finger gently tracing the moving image of Harry smiling and laughing as he and his godson played on the beach. It would be Teddy, Daphne knew, who would miss Harry the most. How could Andromeda even explain it to him? No-one knew if Harry was even going to come home. Was it even possible? If it was how long would he be gone? A month? A year? A decade? How long would that little boy have to go without his godfather?

Daphne forced herself to look away, she couldn't face that particular train of thought. There was only so much guilt she could pile on herself for one day. Not that she didn't deserve it. Ron was right, this was her fault. She took a deep breath, steadying herself, and tried to block those thoughts from her mind. _Clear your mind_. Her father had taught her that a long time ago…

The sound of creaking floorboards and descending footsteps broke Daphne from her reverie. Not wanting to have to face Hermione Granger on top of everyone else Daphne hurriedly took a handful of floo powder, so much so that some sifted through her fingers before she threw the rest into the fire place and vanished from sight.

She had been expecting her living room to be empty when she arrived. No, Daphne corrected herself, that was a lie. She had _hoped_ it would be. Instead of the welcoming embrace of darkness and peace Daphne had longed for she was instead greeted by her sister. No doubt Astoria had had a good day, a fun day, and a day where she wasn't responsible for the loss of the one of the Wizarding World's most famous heroes. But that was just a guess.

"You're back late," Astoria commented as she flicked her wand at the record player halting the song mid-beat.

"Well-spotted," Daphne muttered darkly glowering at her sister. It wasn't Tori's fault, she just happened to be there. "Last I checked it wasn't a crime."

"What's got your wand in a knot?" Astoria asked hotly.

Part of Daphne wanted to lie, wanted to tell her sister that it was nothing and storm off so as she could finally be free to be alone for the first time that day. She was sick of the same conversation, explaining what happened and having to deal with the consequences, usually either pity or anger. Neither was very appealing. Anger just made her guilt intensify and if Daphne was honest with herself she had pity pretty well covered on her own. The memory of her argument with Harry swam to the surface of her mind. Just like him Astoria was only trying to help and for once Daphne wasn't going to let her pride get in the way of that.

"Harry's gone," she said flatly, her voice dull. "The experiment… something went wrong."

"Are you okay?" Astoria asked. "Actually, no. Don't answer that. Of course you're not okay. That was a stupid question." She paused, chewing at her lip and looking helplessly up at her sister. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"What is there to talk about?" Daphne shrugged in a small attempt to try and avoid the conversation as a part of her, the part that just wanted to be alone, began to regret not lying to Astoria. It was a stupid part, a selfish part, but it was there nonetheless.

"Everything. I know how much he meant to you," Astoria said softly. _Meant._ He'd only been gone less than a day and already there it was. The past tense. It crept in, slowly but surely, like a thief in the middle of the night.

"Means," Daphne corrected through gritted teeth. It shouldn't have gotten to her but felt like the first signal of giving up. "How much he _means_ to me, Tori."

"I thought you said he was gone?"

"He is, it's complicated. We don't know what caused it. Until we do it's impossible to say if we just sent him further than we meant to or if…" She trailed off but Astoria knew exactly what she meant. "I should never have let him volunteer."

"You didn't know this was going to happen," Astoria told her. "You can't think like that, Daph."

"How else am I supposed to think? Harry would never have been there if not for me."

"You can't blame yourself," Astoria tried but Daphne remained unconvinced.

"Why not? Everyone else is going to." Astoria opened her mouth to speak but Daphne cut across her, "don't deny it, Tori. It's true. Weasley already does. They're all going to when they find out and you know what? They're right. I should've seen something like this coming. I should've known it was dangerous."

"Stop this, stop it now!" Astoria shouted.

"Why?" Daphne demanded indignantly. "It's the truth."

"No, it isn't. You wouldn't be feeling like this if it was anyone else. You've had tests go wrong before and you've never been like this."

"They were different," Daphne protested. There had been times where tests had gone wrong before. One man had developed a rather nasty rash thanks to a potion Daphne had been tinkering with for instance. Another woman had taken on the personality of an Arabian monk due a translation spell that Daphne had been attempting to design. But they were different, none of them could have potentially have been fatal. Sure, Aretha may not have taken too kindly to being a monk for the rest of her life but that still wasn't the same.

"Yeah, because they weren't him." Astoria countered. "This isn't about the test, it's about you."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're blaming yourself because this time it wasn't a stranger that got hurt, it was Harry." Astoria argued. "He knew the risks, just like they all did. It was an accident. There was nothing you could've done. You covered everything, just like you always do. You think it's your fault for letting him be in that position but Daph that was never your decision to make. The only person who could was Harry."

"I didn't cover everything," Daphne said in a small voice when her sister had stopped speaking. While Astoria may well be right, and Daphne still wasn't so sure, that Harry was the only person responsible for him being there; she was wrong about Daphne having 'covered everything'. "I missed something. He'd used a time-turner before but when we did the background checks it never came up that he'd been loaned one. So I assumed that he hadn't. I didn't actually bother to stop and ask him, if I had this might never have happened."

"Neither did anyone else," Astoria pointed out. "You weren't the only one there. That wasn't your fault. If that's really why all this happened then you can't blame yourself for missing that Daph. Anyone else would've done exactly the same. I would've. You know how hard those things are to get hold of, in fact I don't know anyone apart from you who's ever seen one let alone used one."

"Well, I guess you do now," Daphne remarked darkly.

"That's not funny."

"It wasn't meant to be," Daphne replied exasperatedly, rubbing her eyes. She was tired and not just physically; sure, that was a problem too but it wasn't the main one. Primarily, Daphne was tired of this having conversation again and again: explaining what had happened, dealing with the reaction and either being blamed or told it wasn't her fault. There was only so much of it she could take. Right now all she wanted was to go to bed, at least there she might find some peace. "Sorry, it's just… it's been a long day. I'm going to try go get some sleep."

"You know where I am if you need me," Astoria said. "Seriously anytime, even if you've got to wake me up, okay?"

"Sure," Daphne nodded knowing full well that she would never actually take her sister up on that particular offer. Not at the moment anyway. All Daphne wanted was to be left alone. Forcing a smile she turned and walked away, heading upstairs and silently thanking Merlin that she didn't bump into her father. She didn't think she could cope seeing the pity on his face. It was one thing seeing it etched on Astoria's, it would be quite another seeing it on his.

Her room was dark when she entered, the moonlight filtering in through the window provided the only source of light as Daphne threw her robes to the floor and dropped onto her bed. It only took her a few seconds to realise that she had been wrong. This wasn't better. Without the voices bombarding her brain, the many questions and the struggle of explaining Daphne's mind was free to wonder and fixate on just what had gone wrong. As much as she wanted Astoria to be right, Daphne couldn't escape the feeling that this was on her. Yes, there had been others who could have asked, but none of them were his friend, none of them should've known better and none of them had been the ones who had brought him there.

Ron was right. Without Daphne there would have been no accident. Without her Harry would still be with his family, the people that needed him. The shining and happy face of Teddy Lupin swam to the surface of her mind. What was that little boy going to do now? Did he even know? Were they going to tell him, or would they lie? Whatever they told him he would still have to live without his godfather for Merlin only knew how long.

That was if Harry even came back at all. It was an idea that Daphne had been trying to bury in the back of her mind, but in the silence of her room it came to her again. What if he never actually came back? It was possible, of course it was. If it wasn't the time-turner he had used before at the root of all of this then it had to be something else, a rejection of the human subject, temporal displacement or it simply could have taken him out of time and never put him back. It could be anything. Normally Daphne would've conducted tests on whatever went wrong to find the root of the problem, but there was nothing to test, just a Harry shaped hole where he should be.

No. He _had _to come back. But even in her head that sounded hollow, like the lies people had tried to tell her all those years ago about how her mother had died. Everyone had thought she was too young to take it. They had said that she had gone to sleep, moved on, anything, everything to avoid the truth. Everyone except her father. He had been the only one to be honest with her. If she was honest with herself, just like he had been all those years ago, then she knew that there was every possibility that Harry wasn't going to come back from this.

Unsurprisingly, Daphne barely got any sleep that night. Possibilities of what had happened to Harry and the complete acceptance of blame made for terrible company. By the time the sun had risen and the day had begun Daphne had been through everything and come to the same conclusion over and over again. She hated it. Despised it. But it was inescapable. There was nothing she could do. If Harry was going to come back at all, then he would come back when whatever went wrong decided to let him.

Her musings were interrupted by the quick and rather impatient sound of tapping on her window. Frowning, Daphne pulled herself up and saw a tawny owl tapping frantically on her window, a letter strapped to its leg. Cursing, Daphne leant across her bed and opened the window. The owl hovered for a moment before coming to rest on the sill and sticking out a leg. Daphne took the letter and tore it open before yanking the window shut and denying the owl the tip it had been trained to expect. The letter was short and blunt, but Daphne had known it would be. It simply read:

_My office. Now._

Daphne groaned. She had been expecting it, of course she had, but that didn't make it any easier. Dragging herself out of bed she retrieved her wand from her robes, with a hurried movement and a murmured spell her robes were suddenly a lot cleaner than they had been. After a quick change of clothes, a splash of water over her face in an effort to make herself look less like a corpse and a brush of her teeth Daphne found herself taking the familiar floo journey to the Atrium.

It took all of a second for the chaos to start. One moment Daphne was about to join the throng of workers headed for the lift and the next there was a shout.

"It's her, over there!"

A gaggle of men and women who had all been congregated at the fountain turned at the voice, their eyes scanning for where the finger of the moustached man who had shouted was pointing. Then they saw her and all hell broke loose. It was like being at the centre of an avalanche, only without the comforting knowledge that death was only seconds away. Bulbs flashed. People ran and in an instant Daphne was swamped.

"Lady Greengrass!"

"Is it true your department is behind Harry Potter's disappearance?" demanded one reporter, who was busy shoving another man out of the way so as he could get closer to Daphne.

"What are you doing to bring Mister Potter back?" asked another, who was apparently more up to date with the story than his colleague.

"Are you going to resign?"

Doing her best not to even look at them, Daphne fought her way through the crowd of reporters and silent bystanders. None of them came to her aid. Everyone simply watched, enjoying the free piece of theatre. They all probably wanted her to answer anyway. Some of them wouldn't want to be seen her helping her. Whatever their reasons, they left Daphne alone fighting against the tide of men and women who were all shouting at her, many demanding that she resign. It took all she had not to curse the lot of them; bunch of nosey lowlifes with nothing better to do than snoop about other people's business. It was times like these that made Daphne realise why so many people went to Azkaban despite the threat of the Dementors.

No-one joined her in the lift and it was only when she was sure that it had sunk out of sight that she let her head hit the wall and the sigh escape her lips. She'd be damned if she was going to let them see that they had gotten to her. _So much for keeping it a secret, _Daphne thought glumly as the lift slowly descended. She was dimly aware of some people getting on and off, one or two muttered and cast furtive glances her way. The only reason that Daphne held her tongue was that it would help no-one if she reacted, least of all herself. It was all a part of the game. She had been in the limelight once before for her association with Harry, now she was infamous for his absence.

It took her another few minutes to get to Luidhard's office. There was no press this far down, so her progress through its practically empty halls was unimpeded. The Department of Mysteries wasn't exactly the kind of place where just anyone could waltz in.

"Finally. So glad you could make the time to join us." Luidhard said gruffly when Daphne opened the door and stepped into his office. In all her time as an unspeakable she had only ever been in once before. Unspeakables were generally left to their own devices, it worked better like that. The shelves which lined the walls were lined with thick books, some Daphne recognised as rare and precious volumes that many collectors would die to get their hands on. An ornate desk sat at the end of the room, behind it sat Luidhard and before him stood two other men: Miller and Civet. Civet was noticeably sweating but Miller, for his part, just looked bored. His eyes, which had been scanning the shelves, flitted to Daphne as she entered the room. If she hadn't known better she would've thought that, for the briefest of moments, a flicker sympathy shone in their depths.

"I came as soon as I could," Daphne told him, her tone hard. "Maybe if you learnt how to do a patronous you wouldn't have these delays."

His face notably twitched, but instead of reacting like Daphne had thought he would, he reached down, opened a drawer in his desk and threw down a copy of the _Daily Prophet _onto the desk. The headline read: _Harry Potter Missing_, below it was a stock picture of Harry from some function or other that Daphne didn't recognise. Daphne felt her heart sink.

"Who do I blame?" Luidhard thundered, his voice hard and the veins in his temple pulsating. "Tell me, which one of you is at fault for all of this?"

"Me," Daphne admitted quietly, her eyes never straying from the moving image of Harry. "It's my fault and I take full responsibility.

"Oh, you do, do you? That'd be very noble of you if I wasn't blaming you anyway," Luidhard snapped. "This was supposed to be a routine test. You assured me that everything would work as it was supposed to. Now I'm fielding all sorts of questions from the press, not to mention the fact that I've got to personally explain to the head of the Magical Law Enforcement Department why one of his aurors has gone missing. Can I ask what in Merlin's name possessed you to pick a celebrity to take part in your work?"

"He volunteered," Daphne said stiffly, dragging her eyes from the paper and focusing her gaze instead on the raging Luidhard. She had never seen him like this, but then he had never been under so much pressure before. Daphne didn't care. All he was concerned about was himself, his job and his department. He probably hadn't even given a moment's thought to the man that had actually been caught up in the middle of it all.

"And that was a good enough reason, was it?" Luidhard demanded furiously. "I'm sure you didn't even think of the chance that anything could go wrong."

"The tests were showing positive results, I was well within my rights to think –"

"Think? You didn't think! Your arrogance may have blinded you, Greengrass but it has certainly let the rest of the world see exactly what we are doing. We are unspeakables! Do you know what that means? It means that what we do is _un_speakable, no-one is meant to know about it! And yet you were perfectly willing to risk that eventuality coming true." He paused, a hand going to his face and rubbing in an effort to calm himself down. "Do you even know why it happened?"

"Nothing was wrong with the device itself," Miller answered, taking the pressure off of Daphne but more than likely intending to prove that his work wasn't at fault, his ego wouldn't allow that to be believed. "All of the data we collected matched the previous results. Civet and I," he gestured to the young man who paled at the idea of being the subject of any of Luidhard's blame, "have examined all twelve sets thoroughly. There were no irregularities. It performed precisely as it was supposed to."

"Then you must have missed something," Luidhard bristled, "because in case you hadn't noticed it didn't work."

"By all means, feel free to assess my findings thoroughly. I assure that you will come to exactly the same conclusion that I have," Miller said calmly, apparently unperturbed by the fact he was treating his superior like he was beneath him. "The device was not the issue, which suggests that there were outside and unknown factors which altered its performance."

"Harry used a time-turner," Daphne butted in quickly before Luidhard had chance to start raging again. If what Miller said was right, and fortunately for Daphne it almost always was, then it was looking more and more likely that the problem lay in Harry's past. "It didn't show up on our checks because he got it off of a friend, but that could have seriously affected it, couldn't it?"

It wasn't a question, not really. Daphne already knew the answer. But with all of the theories and ideas about why Harry had ended up wherever – no, _when_ever – the hell he was which had run around her head the night before Daphne was in need of some confirmation. If it was just the time-turner then Harry wasn't lost. The shadow of a smile pulled at her lips.

"Most definitely," Miller nodded, the bored look suddenly vanishing from his face. "How many times did he use it?"

"Just the once apparently," Daphne replied, remembering the shouting match that she and Ron had had the night before and doing her best to ignore the guilt which came along with it. "It can't have been a very long trip either, a few hours at most."

"Does this mean," Luidhard interrupted with all the social grace of kneazle, "that you can start on a solution to all of this?"

"Not a solution, the time-tuner we made will have sent him further forwards than anticipated." Miller answered, cause Daphne's heart to sink a little. Although she had known it would have been a long shot, a part of her had hoped that they would be able to do something. "But we could begin estimating when he will return, it would simply be a matter of –"

"No, I want no more time wasted on this than is necessary." Luidhard snapped sharply. _Wasted?_ Daphne stared at him disbelievingly and not entirely sure that she had heard him correctly. This was Harry's life they were talking about. If they could even whittle it down to a few days that would something to give the people he'd left behind. No, not something. Daphne knew exactly what it would give them. Hope. "If you can't bring him back then we'll just have to wait. Now, I want a private word with Greengrass, I will be dealing with you two later. Shut the door on your way out."

Civet, all too eager to get out of their while he still had a job, scuttled away. Miller, on the other hand, took a little longer to turn to the door. His fingers beat an irregular rhythm on the palm of his hand and his face twitched a little, the corners of the mouth moving slightly as the internal debate as to whether or not to argue raged in his mind. But then that movement stopped and he simply nodded, casting a quick glance at Daphne before turning on his heel and heading out of the door and letting it swing shut behind him.

"It's not a waste of time," Daphne said as soon as they were alone. She knew that she shouldn't, Luidhard was just looking for an excuse to sack her, but she couldn't help it. Andromeda, Hermione, Teddy and even Ron deserved to know when they were going to see Harry again. Even a rough idea. Something, anything that could give them a point to look forward to rather than just aimlessly waiting with the hope that one day Harry might come back.

"I think you're forgetting which one of us makes the decisions around here," Luidhard growled in his best attempt at intimidation. It might have worked if it came out of almost anyone else's mouth, but Luidhard was about as scary as a pigmy-puff. "It isn't an efficient use of our time or resources."

"Not to you, but I think his family would disagree."

"And yet they are not the ones who make the decision," Luidhard retorted, "and neither are you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know exactly what it means," Luidhard bit out bitterly, his gaze returning to the paper. He reached out and pulled it towards him. A long bony finger tapped against it, drumming a thoughtful beat against the moving image of Harry's monochrome face. "They want us to sack you, you know that? And to be honest I'm having a hard time coming up with reasons why I shouldn't."

"We followed procedure," Daphne answered simply, doing all she could to block the anger from her voice as she spoke. "Harry volunteered, there was nothing in his background to suggest that this would happen and all the previous results were positive. Might I remind you, _Sir_, that it was you who pressured us into finding a suitable subject as soon as we could. That's the whole reason he put himself forwards. So, if you're looking for someone to blame may I suggest a mirror?"

"This is not my fault!" Luidhard shouted, his temper shattering at the implication of Daphne's words. A scornful laugh escaped her lips. All he was worried about was himself. Not the test, not the future of the time-turner and certainly not Harry. None of it. Typical. He was pathetic.

"Oh really? So you blocked this? You knew that it was going to go wrong and you took appropriate measures to stop it?" Daphne asked her voice completely level and calm, or as level and calm as she could manage to keep it, while she watched the little weasel squirm, stuttering and spluttering in an attempt to get invalid arguments out. "Wait, no, that never happened. You thought it was going to work and now it hasn't it's time for some distance between you and something which you fully believed would work. Well, sorry to break this you, but that's not going to happen."

"I did nothing wrong," Luidhard tried, but his voice was weak, just like his spine.

"Nor did we," Daphne replied simply, glowering at him as she did so. She wanted to say how if he tried anything she would personally make sure that the papers found out it was really Luidhard who had signed off on all of this, how he had never once objected to it and was only now distancing himself because it had blown up in his stupid face. She wanted to say how much she hated this, how he was wrong to stop her from doing anything about it and how it was a travesty that anyone had ever thought that it would be a good idea to put him in a position of power.

But Daphne didn't say any of that. What was the point, what good would it do? She'd just be left having a shouting match with a man she had long since come to realise she hated and who had equally passionate feelings of dislike towards her. A fight would just confirm what they already knew. No, there was no point in arguing. Any words she used would just be wasted. If he was going to sack her would've done and in front of everyone. He was fooling nobody with this little charade, except perhaps himself and that was only because he had the IQ of a dead iguana.

"I can't be seen to do nothing," Luidhard said quietly, his fingers still drumming against the paper as his eye flicked back to it. "While you may not be fully responsible," Daphne snorted derisively but said nothing. "As I was saying, while you aren't totally at fault for all this it was your experiment. I may have been… a little over eager in my efforts to ensure that you had a subject, but budget cuts are happening everyone, it's not just you that's been affected."

He sighed, his gaze still fixed on the story that had brought Daphne to his office. Daphne remained silent, she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of begging for her job. She'd sooner quit.

"You'll take a leave of absence," Luidhard decided finally, "starting now. You'll still be paid but I don't want you setting foot in this department until I say otherwise. I can't have you coming in here every day like nothing has happened. We'll tell the press that you've been suspended pending an inquiry."

"I thought you said you didn't want any more time wasted on this?" Daphne pointed out, unable to stop herself.

"And it won't be, but if it's only a matter of time until Potter comes back then we won't need one. As soon as he returns we'll release an official statement explaining that it was simply an accident and that you did nothing wrong. We won't, of course, be telling them it was because Potter illegally got his hands on a time-turner. Even if it was a decade ago time-turners are meant to be strictly regulated, no-one wins if it comes out that a thirteen year-old boy was able to get past those regulations."

"So what will you tell them?"

"That it was an accident, unforeseen circumstances, that kind of thing. But we won't be continuing with your modifications."

"What?" No, this couldn't be happening. Not after everything that she had done, not after everything that had happened.

"It's too toxic, we'll use whatever research you've done on the original design and produce those instead."

"But that's not fair, it works –"

"You've got no proof of that," Luidhard said quickly, cutting across her. There was something different about how he spoke though. He was almost sympathetic. "The only human test you've conducted failed. For whatever reason that it did we can't be seen to be going ahead with the time-turner which caused Harry Potter to go missing. I know you've worked hard on this and despite what you might think I am the last person who wants it to fail. After all the money we put into you I want this to work, but with everything that has happened I can't condone any continuation of your research."

"So, what do I do now?" Daphne asked after a long moment of silence.

"Go home, do whatever you want, I don't care. Just stay away from here until Potter gets back."

Daphne nodded, not trusting her voice as she turned away. In the space of a day she had lost her work, she had almost lost her job but above all she had lost her friend for nothing. Harry had risked his life for a project that was never going to happen. But Daphne understood exactly where Luidhard was coming from. The time-turner she had created would be seen by everyone and anyone as dangerous. Nobody was going to fund her research now and certainly they weren't going to want to make her time-turners. But Daphne didn't care about that because of her vanity or pride, it was the fact that Harry was missing for nothing.

For the first time Daphne wished that she had never met him, that their paths had never crossed and that she had gone to that stupid ball and suffered through it relative silence like she always did. If she had then he would never have agreed to all of this.

And maybe she wouldn't be feeling the pain of losing someone all over again.


	19. The Slow Path

**AN: I'd just like to quickly say a huge thank you to Taliesin19 for going over this chapter for me and as usual if you guys have any questions feel free to drop me a message or leave one as a review and I'll make sure that I get back to you! Hope you like it.**

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Chapter Nineteen: The Slow Path

A soft orange glow tinted the sky as Andromeda Tonks stared silently out of her front room window. Any other day she may have reflected how beautiful the rays of the retreating sun made the garden look, but this was not an ordinary day. It had been almost a full day since the man she had come to view as an adopted son had disappeared without even the chance to say goodbye. What should have been a gorgeous evening seemed mute to her, dull, as if the colours had been bled of their beauty.

All the talk of him returning, of it just being a simple accident, had done nothing to raise Andromeda's spirits. She had spent her life dealing with loss, her husband, her daughter, her cousin, and now Harry too joined that list – even if it was only temporary. Andromeda wasn't foolish enough to try and convince herself that this could just last days or weeks. For all anyone knew, it could be months, years.

Why couldn't he just have listened? Those things were dangerous, there was a reason people avoided using them. But instead he'd had to play the hero, just like he always did. He had convinced himself it would be fine, if he'd thought even for a second that he would be leaving them then Andromeda knew that it would not have been such a simple choice for him to take. There was no way that Harry would want this.

Andromeda's reverie was broken by the sound of a small, optimistic voice. The voice that made her heart break all over again.

"Is Uncle Harry coming tonight?" Teddy asked hopefully from his position at the centre of the front room where he was playing with the Quidditch stadium that Harry had bought him for his birthday the previous year.

"Not tonight," Andromeda heard herself say. She hadn't had the heart to tell her grandson the truth the previous evening. Hermione had filled Harry's usual role, put him to bed and they had told him that Harry had been stuck at work but wished he could be there. All it had taken was a few charms and some quick thinking from Hermione to prevent the young boy from hearing the shouting match that had gone on downstairs.

"Is he catching bad guys?" Teddy asked excitedly, forgetting his Quidditch match as he looked up at Andromeda, a glint in his eye and a toothy smile lighting up his face. In that moment Andromeda wanted nothing more than to lie, but where would that lead? One lie would feed another, and then another until both she and Teddy were drowning in them. It wouldn't be protecting him, it would be protecting herself but she had to do it. There was no alternative. He had to know, and Andromeda wasn't to let anyone else tell him. Even if she lied, someday he would find out, it was all over the news. No. He had to know. No matter how much it hurt.

"No Teddy, he's not." Andromeda began as gently as she could, turning away from the window and heading to her grandson's side. She bent down so that she was on eye level with him. Her heart sank as she looked at him, but there was no avoiding this. "There was an accident."

"Accident?" Teddy repeated, confused, his eyes wide with childlike innocence. Andromeda almost faltered. How had Harry been able to do this for years? The amount of times he had been the man on the other side of the door, the bearer of the worst news of all. Andromeda had always felt sorry for the griever, she had never considered what it would be like to have be the one to turn someone's world upside down.

"Yes," Andromeda told him, taking a deep breath as she did so. "You remember Daphne, don't you? Harry's friend?" Teddy nodded. "Well, he had to help her with something very important, but it went wrong and now he's gone and we don't know when he's coming back."

"No," Teddy said, shaking his head defiantly. "Uncle Harry wouldn't leave."

"He didn't have a choice," Andromeda heard her voice waver, but she had come this far. "He didn't want to leave us, Teddy. I promise. It was an accident. It was nobody's fault. He would be here if he could, you know that."

"Then why did he go?" Teddy demanded, the confusion clear in his tiny voice. He didn't understand.

"They were doing some tests," Andromeda tried, "like how you do sometimes at school. But this test went wrong and your Uncle Harry was in the middle of it and now no-one knows when he's going to be back."

"Is he hurt?"

"No," Andromeda said quickly, she couldn't bear to have Teddy think that. She paused, trying to figure out how best to explain it. How could you explain time-travel to a child? "He's fine, he was just testing something which has sent him somewhere and we don't how long it'll take him to get back. It's like floo powder, he was supposed to come out at a certain grate but he didn't."

"He was testing floo powder?" Teddy asked, frowning.

"No, he was testing a time-turner," Andromeda said, opting instead for the truth rather than a confused metaphor which she wasn't even sure made sense. "They let people time-travel and he was meant to go forward just by a minute, but he didn't."

"Then bring him back," Teddy said simply, not seeing the problem.

"We can't, I'm sorry Teddy, there's nothing we can do." She had thought that he perhaps he might throw a tantrum, fly into a childish rage and storm off. But the sight that met Andromeda's was far worse than anything she had pictured. Teddy looked away from her, his eyes coming to rest on the tiny Quidditch players who were whizzing around the stadium. He reached out with a tiny hand and grabbed one, there was a muffled protest from the minute player and then without warning Teddy began to cry.

Andromeda felt her heart shatter. In an instant she was wrapping her arms around him, pulling him in tight. She fought back her own tears. She had to be strong, just like she always was. Teddy needed her right now. Her own grief could come later and in the darkness of her solitary silence when she had finally put Teddy to bed and made sure that he had fallen asleep, it did.

oOo

Harry Potter had been missing for about a week and the world hadn't stopped turning, life carried on as life always does and almost everyone had moved on with their lives. Almost everyone. There were, of course, exceptions. Tracey Davis knew this better than most, not because she actively missed Harry. Yes, she felt bad for the guy and for everyone that was missing him, but Tracey didn't know Harry. They'd met once and he'd seemed nice, but that wasn't enough to make her mope around because he was gone. No, the reason that Tracey knew the pain that Harry's departure had caused wasn't because she herself missed him, it was because her best friend did.

Daphne hadn't been the same since the experiment. Tracey had tried to cheer her friend up, they'd gone out for coffee, spent days with one another like they had in the old days, but nothing worked. Nothing could distract Daphne from her own guilt and without work to take her mind off of it she had closed herself off from the outside world. After the first few times she went out with Tracey, Daphne had started to make up excuses and point blank refused to see her friend. Tracey had done her best, but Daphne was stubborn, she always had been and as much as Tracey wanted to help her friend she had other responsibilities now. There were only so many days she could pretend to be ill, especially considering that the people she was lying to knew everything there was to know about illnesses.

The mini break that Tracey had taken in her attempts to support her friend had resulted in a back log at work, being in charge of her own ward came with certain responsibilities and Tracey's good-intentioned shirking of those responsibilities had caused utter chaos. It took a few days, double shifts and a lot of paperwork done on her own time just to get everything back on track. By the end of the week Tracey was exhausted. All she wanted to do was sleep, and after a long day which had begun at six in the morning thanks to a domestic argument which had gotten out of hand, Tracey was finally able to get her wish.

Or at least that's what she thought.

She had only been home a matter of minutes, just enough time to quickly change into shorts and an old t-shirt ready for bed when there was a knock at her door. At first Tracey ignored it. Whatever they wanted could wait. But as the knocking grew louder and more impatient, Tracey forced herself off of the sofa and walked zombie-like to the door intent on telling whoever it was to leave her alone. Could she not get a moment's peace? But she never got that far. As soon the door was pulled back the words died on her lips.

"Tori?" Tracey asked a little stunned at the sight of the youngest Greengrass sister at her door. While they were close, they had never really seen each other without Daphne there. In fact, Tracey was pretty sure that the only time Astoria had ever come round was when Tracey had moved in. Mike, Tracey's boyfriend at the time, had thought it would be a good idea to have a party and it had been at the time. The morning after when Tracey was on an early start, not so much.

"Hi Trace," Astoria said, her usual chirpiness absent from her voice.

"What's up?" Tracey probed, before adding in an attempt to lighten the mood. "No wait, I've got it, you need me to do some intensive surgery on Narcissa, remove that stick from up her -"

"It's Daph," Astoria interrupted.

"Ah," Tracey said, somewhat deflated, the smile draining from her face. "What's wrong?"

"She's… I don't know, she's being really weird. She's pretty much locked herself up in the study, dad tried going in there but she wouldn't let him in. I'm starting to get a bit worried about her."

Tracey sighed, she knew where this was going. She could say no, tell Astoria that she was tired and wanted to get some well-deserved rest. After all, she'd already tried to help Daphne. Sometimes there was nothing anyone could do. Some people just didn't want help. But even as Tracey attempted to consider saying no, she knew that she was lying to herself. There was no way on Earth that Tracey would ever give up on Daphne.

"Come in, I'll just get changed," Tracey conceded, opening the door wide and retreating back into her flat.

"Sorry, I didn't realise you'd be going to bed," Astoria said apologetically, her face scrunching up a little as she realised just how Tracey was dressed.

"I wasn't, this is all part of my new dating style. I call it 'date ala slob'. Go in, look like crap and it can only go up from there." Tracey joked as she headed for her room. "It's fine, Tori. Don't worry about it, you didn't know."

Astoria loitered in the hall, no doubt inspecting some of the more muggle decorations that Tracey had put up. A painting of Times Square that she had gotten from New York when she and her mum had gone for a week, her dad had been busy, was hung in the hall above her shoe stand.

"So, what's she actually doing, then?" Tracey asked loudly so as Astoria heard her while she searched her room for some clothes. They couldn't all be dirty, could they? "I mean, other than moping?"

"From what dad said it sounded like she's trying to figure out stuff to do with the time-turners, you know the ones she was working on? Apparently she might be able to find out when Harry's going to come back."

"She said something about that last week," Tracey commented as she kicked some underwear under her bed and picked up a t-shirt she was pretty sure she'd lost. She gave it a quick once over, along with a hurried cleaning charm which did barely anything. Tracey never had been much good at Charms, but it would have to do. "I didn't really get it."

"Does anyone?" Astoria pointed out. While Astoria may have been sorted into the house of intelligence and wit even she barely understood the work which Daphne performed, much to her own frustration. "But she's not really done anything else all week. She was meant to come house viewing with Draco and I but pulled out. She even cancelled on dad."

"Really?" Tracey asked as she pulled a pair of jeans from the back of her desk chair. "Must be bad."

Daphne never cancelled anything with her father. Never. Though she had a tendency to obsess on her work, Daphne always made time for him. _So much for a quiet night in_, Tracey thought somewhat glumly. As much as she wanted to help her friend she had been looking forward to a night by herself. But life, it seemed, had other plans.

"He's starting to really worry about her," Astoria told Tracey as Tracey began clambering into her jeans and doing her best not to topple over into her chair. "So am I. I've never seen her like this, Trace."

_I have,_Tracey thought as she discarded her old t-shirt and pulled the new one over her head. It had been a long time, they'd been kids. Astoria knew nothing about it, Daphne had never told her but after their mum had died she'd gone in on herself. Stopped eating, refused to see people, just shut herself off. Astoria hadn't seen it, she'd been at home and while Daphne had been strong for her sister and her father whilst they were there, the reality of her loss had hit her at Hogwarts. Tracey had been the only one really to see it.

"We'll get it sorted," Tracey said with forced cheeriness as she reached under her bed, pulling out a battered old pair of trainers. She stepped into them quickly and hurriedly re-joined Astoria in the hall. Astoria said nothing. Her face was tight with concern and Tracey could completely understand why. Harry's disappearance had hit Daphne hard, but none of them had expecting it to be _this_ hard.

They headed for Tracey's fireplace in silence, Astoria went first, the green light from the emerald flames briefly lighting up the room as she vanished from sight. Tracey waited a moment. It was never a good idea to go straight after someone else in the floo. It led to all sorts of awkward entanglement. When she was sure that Astoria would be nowhere near the fireplace on her end, Tracey took a pinch of powder from the pot on the mantel and stepped into the fire, threw it down and disappeared from her tiny flat.

There was a rush of grates, a blur of colour and whirl of motion, and in a flash, Tracey was stepping out into the Greengrass' living room.

"Are you not coming?" Tracey asked as she brushed off some of the soot that had attached itself to her.

"No, there's no point. I've already tried, she won't listen to me," Astoria said with a small sigh. Left unsaid was the fact that as close as Astoria and Daphne were, it wasn't the same as Tracey and Daphne's relationship. "Good luck."

"Thanks, I think I'll need it," Tracey replied before heading for the study. It was barely used these days, since Matthias worked mostly at Hogwarts and Daphne at the Department of Mysteries, and both of them had realised that it was unhealthy to bring work home if they could avoid it, not that that stopped either of them.

The door to the study stood a little ajar, an orange light flickered and glowed in the darkness of the house. There were so many rooms in Greengrass manor that it was entirely possible to live in separate sections and completely avoid the other inhabitants, a tactic Daphne had used more than a little when Astoria and Draco Malfoy first got together.

Tracey didn't bother with knocking, she'd only get told to go away, and she was too tired to try and combat that level of instant rejection. So instead she simply walked up to the door and pushed it open, letting herself in.

The room was well lit by several candles, some were enchanted to float high above the room while others stood in stands or brackets on the navy coloured walls. Bookcases lined the walls as they had done for generations, being added to by a wealth of Greengrasses who had come before Daphne and her family. The old desk, which Tracey vaguely remembered sitting in the middle of the room, had been moved to one side. In its place stood two blackboards. White chalk scribbles and calculations that Tracey didn't even bother to try and understand were scrawled in a chaotic mess all over the two boards. Beneath the boards were several books, some lay open, others were shut in a collected heap to the right of Tracey. No doubt, the books had not held the answers which Daphne had been looking for so had been discarded.

In the centre of this chaos stood Daphne herself. Her blonde hair, which usually held a glossy sheen was lank and uncared for. Her sleeves were rolled up, one more than the other. Chalk dust stained her black trousers in various stripes up and down her leg, probably from where she had tried to wipe it off of her hands. Her wand lay atop one of the open books seemingly forgotten as Daphne stared at the board on her left. Her icy eyes flicked down to the book in her hand and then back to the board. Tracey's only warning was the noise of frustration that came from her friend. An instant later, the book was hurled angrily away causing Tracey to quickly duck away so as to avoid being struck by it.

"Careful, you could take someone's eye out with that," Tracey said, stooping down to retrieve that book which had fallen at her feet.

"Trace?" Daphne frowned, her attention drifting from the mass of calculations. "What're you doing here?"

"Tori asked me to come by," Tracey answered heading for the bookcase nearest to her and replacing the book that Daphne had accidentally hurled at her. It probably wasn't in the right place, but old shelves like these had a habit of sorting that out themselves. "Good thing too, I didn't realise you were training to become England's new chaser. Though you might wanna try on something a bit more, I don't know, round?" Daphne's face didn't even react. _This is going to be fun_. "She's worried about you, so is your dad, and to be honest Daph, so am I."

"I'm fine," Daphne bit back bitterly.

"No, you're not." But Daphne didn't say anything, preferring stony silence. By this point Astoria would get frustrated and their father would carry on trying to find out what was wrong. But that wasn't the best way to get round it. The direct approach would just cause her to shut off.

"What are you even doing in here, anyway?" Tracey asked, forcing as much curiosity into her voice as she could. It was an old tactic. Whenever she was stuck on a problem Daphne preferred to talk it through with someone. Apparently it gave her a new perspective, and if one thing was obvious it was that Daphne was struggling.

"I'm trying to figure out just _when_it was we sent Harry to," Daphne explained with a sigh, running a hand through her lank hair as she went back to staring at the blackboards. "But it's not making any sense."

"So? Can't you just send him back when he turns up?" Tracey asked. After all, if they had sent him to the future, couldn't they just send him to the past? "Make it like all this never happened."

"It wouldn't be _like,_Trace, none of this would've happened if we were to even try that. That could do literally anything."

"What do you mean?"

"Paradoxes. And that's just to start with," Daphne began. "If I send him back from the future, that future will never happen for me to send him back from—paradox loop. And even if it did work, which by the way is completely untested, and most people agree that type of thing could cause catastrophic consequences – I mean universe ending ones—what would happen then? What would Harry coming back change?"

"It would stop all of this," Tracey pointed out, not quite understanding what Daphne meant.

"It's not as simple as that," Daphne said, the frustration clear in her voice. "You don't just cut out what you don't want to happen. We can't predict everything that bringing him back might do. Have you ever heard of something called chaos theory?"

"The butterfly thing," Tracey answered, vague memories of the science-fiction films her mum had shown her as a kid coming back to her. "You kill a butterfly in the past, and it causes a hurricane or something?"

"Close enough," Daphne nodded. "Well, it could be something like that, or it could be that I send him back to the exact moment he should've reappeared or just after. That would validate my work, meaning that we might not go on to notice the effects that travelling in the past has on travelling to the future. Or this test might blow up in someone else's face. Or we might go out that night to celebrate, and so we'd go to a muggle pub—you know he hates being famous—then get drunk and one of us could get hit by a car."

"But that would never happen," Tracey protested. It was ridiculous. Nothing like that would happen, would it? But as Tracey stopped and actually thought about it, she realised just how infinite the possibilities of bringing Harry back from the future could be, assuming that even trying didn't blow a hole in the fabric of reality or something. _Merlin, this was getting complicated._

"You don't know that, no-one can be sure what might happen. It's too dangerous to risk playing with time."

"But can't time be rewritten? Didn't you say that Granger and Harry saved Sirius Black's life?"

"I did, and it can," Daphne conceded. "But it takes great care or, in their case, luck. There's too much at risk if we even tried it." The regret in her voice was almost palpable and Tracey could tell that Daphne had had this very same conversation with herself before coming to the same conclusion that she had made Tracey see. It was too dangerous. "All I can do is try and figure out when he's going to come back."

"You don't have to do anything. Why are you putting yourself through all this, Daph?" It broke Tracey's heart to see her best friend like this. But Daphne had always been obsessive and focused. It was why she was such a good unspeakable. That drive and ambition that had gotten her so far had a price, though, and it was one which she was finally paying. All of her energy was focused on one problem that she couldn't step away from. Her guilt wouldn't let her.

"They deserve to know," Daphne muttered darkly, biting at her nails. "I can figure this out, I know I can, I just… I'm missing something."

"What?"

"I don't know! If I did, it wouldn't be missing, would it?" Daphne snapped angrily. But her fury instantly died as her pale eyes fixed on Tracey. "Sorry, Trace. But there's got to be more to it than this." Her hand gestured wildly at the blackboards and stacks of scattered books. "This can't be it."

"And what if it is?" Tracey asked, voicing the question that she knew Daphne needed to hear but wanted desperately to ignore.

"It can't be," Daphne said simply, her voice lacked defiance. It wasn't like she was arguing, it was more that she just didn't believe what Tracey was saying and was moving past it. Typical Daphne. Always thought she was right. "I just need more. Knowing how long the first trip was would be nice. At least then I might have something to go on."

"Yeah, but it's not like you can just up and ask Granger," Tracey pointed out with a small supportive smile.

Daphne turned to Tracey and as soon as their eyes met Tracey felt her stomach fall. She knew that look. "No."

"Why not? It's just one question, what's the harm in that? Trace, it's a great idea." Daphne protested hurriedly running to the other side of the room to reclaim her wand. Tracey's inadvertent advice stimulated a newfound energy in her best friend. The change was startling. It was like someone had flipped a switch inside her friend's mind, snapping her mood from one to the other.

"I'm pretty sure that's the opposite of what I just said," Tracey argued helplessly as Daphne turned on her heel and rushed from the room which had become her sanctuary. Cursing, Tracey followed as fast as her tired limbs would allow her while wishing that she had stayed at home. This was not how she had seen this going. Maybe a long conversation or shouting, possibly even a discussion about why Daphne was lugging around her guilt. Anything but this would be preferable.

"Daph, slow down, think about this!" Tracey called after her friend who was on the verge of running down the ancient corridors of Greengrass manor. Various old inhabitants, now framed portraits, tutted and glowered at, what one of them called, the 'foolery of the younger generation'.

"What's to think about? This could help, Trace, really help."

"Do you really think they're going to want you showing up at wherever the hell it is we're going?"

"We? I never asked you to come," Daphne retorted as she leapt down the stairs, taking them two at a time. "In fact, aren't you the one that thinks this is a terrible idea?"

"I'm not letting you do something this stupid on your own," Tracey snapped back. At least it was meant to come out that way. But in her current state of unfit and unhealthy it hadn't taken long for Tracey to suddenly be out of breath from the unscheduled burst of exercise. Her already protesting muscles were now practically screaming at her. A twelve hour shift, apparently, wasn't good for the body. Who'd have known?

"It's not stupid. This could be the key to finding out what happened."

"And just why is this all so important?" Tracey asked, grimacing a little and grabbing at the stitch which she could feel developing in her side. _Merlin that was a lot of stairs._

"It… it just _is_, okay?"

"No, if you're going to drag me cold calling the least I deserve is an explanation," Tracey panted as defiantly as anyone could whilst out of breath.

It had been a week and Daphne had said nothing. Not a thing. Yes, she'd been there when Tracey had talked about the accident. But all she'd done was put yes and no in the right places and thought that Tracey hadn't noticed; like she couldn't read her best friend. Tracey had let it slide in the hope that Daphne would open up on her own terms. But this, this was too much. Daphne needed to face up to why she was dead set on a course of action which was ill advised at best.

"I never asked you to come," Daphne said again as she summoned her shoes. A dark frown creased her pale face.

"You shouldn't have to ask," Tracey responded emphatically. Her friend had always been dead set on independence. When was she going to learn that leaning on people wasn't a bad thing? "So come on, talk to me. What's really going on with you? And don't say nothing because we both know that's a lie, and I don't want to have to hex you."

There was a long moment as Daphne's eyes dropped to the floor. All of the energy which had suddenly possessed faded as quickly as it had come.

"It's my fault," Daphne said quietly. "All of this. Everyone keeps trying to tell me it's not, but that's not true. If it hadn't been for me, Harry would never have been there. I can't just stand by and do nothing."

"And?" Tracey prompted as gently as she could. It was difficult getting Daphne to open up, like taming a Hippogriff. There was a certain way of doing it. Tactical indirectness, that was the name of game—with just a tiny push to try and get her to see what the real problem was herself. Guilt was a part of it, of that Tracey had no doubt, but it wasn't the cause.

"Does there need to be something else?"

"You just locked yourself in a study for three days, I think it's safe to say this isn't just about your guilt. Why don't you just admit that you care about him?"

_So much for tactical and indirect,_ Tracey thought sourly, but she was too tired for subtlety. It was so glaringly obvious for the entire world to see that Daphne's feelings for her so called 'friend' were so much more than that. Daphne hadn't locked herself away because she wanted to give his family some hope or whatever other twaddle her brain had made up to hide the truth. She was working so hard because she missed him, and she wanted to bring him back, simple as that. As for her guilt, Tracey was almost certain that that came from just who she had lost rather than it actually being her fault. No-one could've seen it coming, Daphne had done everything right. But because it was Harry that got put in the crosshairs, it was her responsibility.

"Not this again." Daphne's exasperation only made Tracey shake her head.

"Why won't you just admit it?"

"Because it's not the truth?" It was a question, not statement. _Well, that was something at least_.

"Uh-huh," Tracey murmured, utterly unconvinced. "Did the last week happen to someone else, or am I missing something here? You shut yourself up in a room trying to figure out the impossible because you miss him."

"I didn't say that," Daphne shot back bitterly.

"You didn't have to. I'm your best friend, remember?" When Daphne didn't argue Tracey continued pressing. "What are you so scared of exactly?"

"This," Daphne muttered, clearly unable to look at Tracey so her eyes stayed glued to a point slightly above her friend's head. "Losing him. I knew it would happen some day and that scared me. I didn't want to get in too deep. Guess that went well, huh?" She sighed, managing to drag her eyes to meet Tracey's. "You're right. You've always been right, and I couldn't see it. I didn't want to. What good did it do? I lost him anyway."

"When did you realise?" Tracey asked trying not to be too stunned by her friend's sudden confession nor to jump in the air and yell 'I told you so'. Somehow it didn't feel like the right time.

"A few days ago," Daphne confessed. "Tori said that I was only this upset because it was Harry that got hurt, and I couldn't stop thinking that she was right. I've never been this invested before, at first I thought it was because he was my friend but…"

"You realised he's more important than just a friend," Tracey finished. She knew the feeling all too well, unlike Daphne who had actively avoided serious relationships almost her entire life.

"Something like that," Daphne nodded. There was an awkward silence for a moment, punctured only by the rhythmic loud ticking of the clock. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"It's fine, it's not like I didn't know I was right. I just wish he hadn't had to disappear for you to realise," Tracey shrugged. She had long since stopped taking Daphne's need for privacy personally. She bottled things up by nature. Half of the time Tracey would be told what had been wrong six months after it had happened, which was a fat lot of good then. "But he's gonna come back, sooner or later, and then you can tell him, kiss and make lots of tiny, little Greengrasses."

"And you wonder why I don't tell you things?" A small smirk lifted the corner of Daphne's mouth. It was a refreshing change from dour and grumpy. But it was only temporary. The only thing that would brighten her mood for good would be finding out just when Harry was going to come back, and there was only one way that Daphne was even going to have a chance at finding that out.

"Eh," Tracey shrugged, pulling a smile onto her face before continuing. "So, are we going to go and ask Granger whatever it is you wanna ask; or are we chilling here for the night? Either's cool, just if we're staying here I thought I might get a chair or something, maybe some tea."

"I thought you said it was a stupid plan?" Daphne pointed out, arching her eyebrow as her smirk turned to a small appreciative smile.

"Yeah, well, it is." Tracey conceded. There was no way she could see this ending well, but if it was what Daphne needed then Tracey was going to support her. "But you'll just do it when I leave anyway, so I might as well tag along."

"I didn't know I was that predictable," Daphne muttered with only a trace of bitterness in her voice.

"Only to me," Tracey replied sincerely.

The journey to Hermione Granger's flat, which according to Daphne was where Granger was most likely to be found these days having finally realised that she was pumping way too much time into her work, passed in relative silence. It wasn't exactly what Tracey would call a good time for small talk, but even when she tried, her friend would remain noncommittal and tight lipped. By the time they had apparated, Tracey had simply given up. Daphne always got like this when she was nervous.

Granger's building was well lit and inviting and it was only when Tracey checked her watch that she realised it wasn't actually that late, a fact which her body clock highly disagreed with.

"So, what's the plan?" Tracey asked when they had climbed the many stairs which led to Granger's flat.

"Knock, ask, leave," Daphne suggested without even a hint of certainty.

"This is going to go great," Tracey muttered as they came to a halt, Tracey slightly after Daphne who had said nothing to indicate that they had arrived.

Daphne said nothing, instead raising her fist and knocking loudly but politely on Granger's door. A long second passed, then another and another. Tracey blew out a sigh through her lips causing them to ripple. The glare Daphne shot her way was almost worth it. Tracey was about to raise her arms in a 'what else am I supposed to do' gesture when the door was pulled open and Hermione Granger was revealed. Tracey's levity instantly died. Granger was dressed in a nice dress, make-up had been delicately applied and her hair wasn't as bushy as usual. This was bad. Granger wasn't alone.

Tracey's suspicions were confirmed when Granger's eyes went wide and she stepped slightly in front of the door, blocking her visitors from view of whoever else was in the flat. Beyond the door Tracey could hear laughing, people talking and then a crash and a loud cheer. Someone had dropped a glass.

"Daphne, Tracey what... er what are you doing here?" Granger asked hesitantly, brushing a stand of hair behind her ear and forcing a smile onto her face. Amazingly it convinced no-one.

"This is the beginning of a cool superhero film, and we're assembling an elite squad to –" Tracey faltered as both women turned to her, one confused, the other glowering. "Right, serious. Gotcha."

"I need to talk to you about that time-turner you and Harry used," Daphne answered, shaking her head at Tracey's antics.

"Could we do this another time?" Granger asked, her face tight and panicked.

"But I think I might be able to figure out –"

Daphne words were interrupted as, at that exact moment, a man's voice which Tracey vaguely recognised, probably because it was far deeper than the last time she had heard it, said, "Hermione?"

"Just a minute," Granger called back her panic, if possible, intensifying. "Daphne, I'm sorry, but I can't do this right now."

"Yeah, Daph we should go," Tracey agreed wholeheartedly, there was only a short list of people who that man could be and none of them were going to be pleased to see Daphne. One man in particular would hate the sight of Daphne on his girlfriend's doorstep.

But Daphne, either unaware of just who was behind the door, or too fixated on what she had come to say, ploughed on, "but it won't take a minute, I just need to know how far you both went back. Hermione, please. I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important."

Hermione paused, something stopping her from turning back and shutting the door in their faces. Maybe it was the sudden fragility in Daphne's voice, or the fact that Daphne was being nice, or because Granger too wanted nothing more than to know when her best friend would be coming home. Whatever the reason Granger stayed put, the door stayed open and whoever was calling for her was left calling.

"Three hours," Granger answered. "That was the only time he used it." She paused, glancing back over her shoulder before quickly asking, "do… do you really think that you can work this out?"

"I hope so," Daphne nodded, there was an awkward pause in which Tracey was about to try and advise that they leave again when Daphne spoke up once more, "Hermione, I just want to say, that I'm sorry. For everything. This is the last thing that I wanted to happen."

Hermione looked as if she wanted to reply, but her words never came, instead another voice spoke. The man that called earlier had apparently gotten bored of waiting. "Hey Hermione, what's taking so long, everyone's waiting for –"

The door was pulled back to reveal none other than Ron Weasley. Like Granger, Weasley too was dressed for the occasion that Daphne and Tracey had seemingly interrupted. Tracey remembered him as a laughing, smiling and joking boy. But there wasn't even a trace of that boy as his blue eyes narrowed and his ears began to turn a deep red.

"What's _she_ doing here?" Weasley demanded, placing as much venom and disgust as he could on 'she'. Daphne had told Tracey about her little spat with Weasley, but Tracey hadn't quite been able to picture him being so spiteful towards anyone that wasn't Draco Malfoy. Now she was having no trouble.

"Leaving," Tracey said quickly. "Right, Daph?"

"We were just asking about Harry," Daphne explained, leaving Tracey to wonder why she was the only one that wanted out of the incredibly awkward and potentially volatile situation. Why had she agreed to this?

"Hasn't she done enough damage?" Ron sneered, directing his question at his girlfriend rather than Daphne. Tracey wanted to sigh. She didn't even need to look to her right to know that Daphne's temper would snap at that, because right now she needed absolutely zero provocation.

"I'm right here, Weasley," Daphne pointed out, her own anger bubbling to the surface as she spoke. "And for your information I am trying to fix this."

"If it wasn't for you there'd be nothing to fix," Weasley snapped back, "so thanks, but no thanks. Why don't you clear off and leave us alone?"

"Ron, she's just trying to help," Hermione said gently, her left hand reaching up to touch her boyfriend's shoulder. It was only then that Tracey saw the latest addition to Hermione's tiny collection of jewelry. The stone was small, but beautiful and glittered in the light. Tracey felt her stomach sink. This was an engagement party. She wasn't his girlfriend. She was his fiancée.

"Help? Right, cause she's done such a great job of that already," Ron retorted, his temper apparently beyond his control. "I'd sooner ask for Malfoy's help than her!"

"You might not like me Weasley," Daphne began, her voice harsh and her words measured as she did her best to stay in control. "But I want Harry back just as much as you do, and I am your best chance of finding out when that's going to happen. Sure, you could ask Draco, but somehow I think he'd have a bit of trouble."

"Why are you even bothering?" Ron spat back. "After this he's never going to want to talk to you again."

Tracey stared horror-struck at Weasley. Talk about a low blow. Anger and grief was one thing but this was something else. That had crossed the line. The colour had drained from Daphne's face. Tracey, who had been firmly set on leaving, snapped. Words failed her and as her brain tried to come up with something to say, her body took over and she slapped him. Hard.

He staggered back, clutching at his face, his mouth opening and closing like a gaping fish. Granger stared, equally stunned as Weasley. Past them, Tracey could see the rest of his family—Ginny, his mother, father and a slightly older woman with black hair that she didn't recognize—come rushing to the hall so as to investigate the sound. All eyes were fixed on Tracey whose unprecedented surge of confidence and anger was leaving her faster than a firebolt. But before she could mutter an apology or shout that he deserved it, Daphne spoke, her voice level and calm.

"We'll see," she then turned on her heel and walked away. Tracey, realising that this was here cue to leave, gave an awkward and somewhat apologetic smile to Weasley and Granger before following her friend down the corridor at a slightly faster pace, her face burning. Behind them there was a sound of a door shutting.

"Well, that could've gone worse." Tracey said, somewhat awkwardly as she broke the silence that had fallen between them.

"It could have," Daphne agreed. "Nice slap, by the way."

"Thanks, though I'm really not sure what came over me." Tracey hadn't even seen it coming herself. She wasn't like that. She was usually a calm, considerate person, not a Bruce Willis impersonator. Okay, she mentally chastised herself, Bruce Willis was probably a step too far, but the point still stood. "My hand kinda hurts now."

"Hitting someone tends to do that," Daphne commented dryly. Tracey frowned slightly. Maybe she hadn't taken Weasley's words as badly as she'd first thought. "Thank you, though."

"He was out of line," Tracey said earnestly, flexing her fingers as she tried to work the feeling back into her hand. "You don't believe that crap, do you?"

"Like I said, we'll just have to wait and see, won't we?" Was all Daphne said as she opened the door and led the way out of the apartment.

oOo

Despite what she had said to Tracey, the trip to Hermione's flat had gone horrendously. The only tangible link that Daphne had to Harry had now most likely vanished. Ron hated her guts, Andromeda had warned Harry against taking part in the first place, and now Hermione would probably be against her, too. When Harry did finally come home, it was going to be a different world to the one he had left behind and one which Daphne doubted he would enjoy.

But for all the fighting and partially crashed engagement party, Daphne was at least able to finally get some headway in her attempts at solving the puzzle of Harry's return. All it took was a few control subjects, rabbits which she transfigured from clothes she hated, a time-turner – which, being the one who had created the new models in the first place, wasn't difficult to manufacture, and several hours and days of careful waiting. First, she sent one of the rabbits one half turn back in time in the middle of a locked room - so as when they were transported back they couldn't cause much damage - and then she sent them forwards the minute she had tried with Harry. The result had been a three and a half day nightmare of self-doubt, dread and seemingly endless projected theories which all turned out to be wrong when the rabbit didn't reappear.

As soon as it did, Daphne repeated the feat, this time with three on a quarter turn, three on half turns, another batch one three quarter turns and finally a group of rabbits which had been sent back the full hour. It didn't take long for a pattern to emerge. The first group returned within one day, six hours and three minutes, the next three days, twelve hours and six minutes and so on until the final group returned within one week, twelve minutes and forty three seconds. The correlation was obvious. A turn a week, more or less. Daphne's experiment had taken almost a week and half, meaning that when her research was concluded she estimated that there were only three more days until Harry would finally be home.

So when the day came, Daphne dressed in her work robes, pocketed the rolls and rolls of parchment which contained all of the data she had collected from the volunteer rabbits such as weight change, emotional reactions to outside stimuli, and physical descriptions before and after the tests. In short though, the observations revealed that the rabbits seemed perfectly fine. None of them exhibited any signs of mental or physical trauma – apart from Benji who had escaped and been trodden on by Daphne's father, so that didn't really count.

"Good morning," Daphne said brightly as she entered the kitchen. Her father, who was leafing through the _Daily Prophet_ with a croissant half way to his mouth, looked up surprised.

"You're not in the study," he commented somewhat warily. "And you're smiling. Why are you smiling?"

"I bet they missed you when you stopped being an auror, so perceptive." Daphne responded sarcastically, opening a cupboard in search of food. Her stomach, which she had pretty much ignored to the best part of two weeks, had growled in protest on her way down the stairs, so Daphne had thought it might be a good idea to get something to eat for a change.

"Joking too, you're in a good mood." Daphne's father assessed, thoroughly unnerved with his croissant forgotten as it fell back onto his plate. "This is weird. Why are you in a good mood?"

"Am I not allowed to be happy?" Daphne asked, pretending to be affronted as she grabbed a muffin from the cupboard and began pulling away the wrapper. After the last few weeks it was fun to torment her father.

"No," he answered, somewhat bluntly but Daphne could understand his scepticism and confusion. For the past three weeks she had been hell to live with. The first had been filled with bad tempered shouting, irritableness and a general effort by her family to both support and avoid her at all costs. The other two, and for much of the first, she had locked herself away in the study either sulking or conducting experiments on rabbits. Neither had made her accessible to her father or Astoria, a fact which Daphne had promised herself she would make up for when this was all over.

"Thanks, Dad," Daphne said through a mouthful of muffin. She stopped, swallowed and added, "we should do this more often."

"You know what I mean, I've not seen you like this since…" he trailed off awkwardly apparently struggling to find a term for Harry's disappearance that he thought might not damage his daughter's mood

"Harry," Daphne prompted, "it's fine, Dad, you can say it."

"You promise not to throw anything?"

"That was one time," Daphne protested, remembering his first attempt at getting her to talk which had ended in a smashed plate and her storming off. "But yes, I promise. And, to answer your first question, I am in a good mood because today is a good day."

"Are you sure?" he asked, this time the paper was victim to his sudden loss of attention as it too fell from his grasp to the counter.

"Sure as I can be," Daphne nodded, taking another bite of muffin. "So, I'm going to work. Luidhard said I had until Harry came back off. If I'm right that's in," she glanced up, checking the clock on the far wall, "fifteen minutes and forty five seconds."

"And if you're wrong?"

"Then I get fired," answered Daphne as she picked out a chocolate chip from between her teeth with her tongue. She was doing her best to look calm and relaxed, but inside her nerves were making her stomach do flips and her heart hammer. That was why she had selected a light breakfast and not the one her food-deprived stomach deserved.

"That seems like a pretty big risk," her father said, concerned.

"I have to be there, Dad, I can't just sit here and wait to hear about it on the news or something," Daphne explained. "I've already owled Miller, he's told Luidhard, and they're expecting me. No doubt he's just excited because if Harry doesn't come back, I'm breaching my leave agreement and he can sack me on the spot. Git."

"If he wanted to sack you, he would've done," Daphne's father told her with the air of a wise old man, a look which was somewhat spoilt by the coffee stain on his shirt. "Let's face it, you gave him a pretty decent opportunity."

"We'll see," Daphne responded with a small shrug. It wasn't that she didn't want to agree with her father, it was more the fact that she knew Luidhard to be a spineless, self-interested worm who hated her for a name she had never wanted or abused. As much as her father was being logical, sometimes logic didn't always work. Besides, he hadn't been there when Luidhard had issued his little ultimatum.

"It'll be fine," her father assured her, in the way that parent's do even when they have no clue what the actual outcome would be. It was sweet, but Daphne wasn't a child anymore. She knew that there was every chance, just like last time, that this could go horribly wrong. She could lose her job for one thing, but even worse, she could shatter the hope that she had so desperately been trying to instill in Harry's family. Ever since she had started to realise when he'd be coming back, she had sent out a series of letters, first to Andromeda, then to Hermione and even to Longbottom and Lovegood. All the people that missed him, all the ones who needed him back. It had been rash and stupid, a part of her had wanted to wait and not give them the opportunity to hate her if this went wrong, but Daphne didn't regret it. They deserved to have hope.

"Yeah," Daphne agreed with equally forced optimism that fooled neither herself nor her father. "Anyway, I'd better get going."

"Good luck," her father said.

"Thanks," Daphne smiled back before turning, heading out of the room and mentally adding: _Hopefully I won't need it._


	20. In the Blink of an Eye

**AN: First off I am so, so sorry for how long this update has taken! There are several reasons for it, firstly I have rewritten this chapter more than a few times as it never felt right. It took three very different forms, each of which were drafted several times until I settled on this one. If anyone wants to know what the others may have looked like then feel free to message me. Secondly, after the last update I wrote another short story called Being Brave which is a Skulduggery Pleasant fanfic and has been posted on my page if any of you would be interested. Thirdly, I then started my third and final year at uni so the work load has been insane and I have had no free time for writing. Finally, I kind of lost where I wanted this to go this story, which is why there were so many rewrites.**

**Also a quick response to a few reviews, I haven't been able to message everyone I tried to keep on top of it and kind of failed. Thanks for all of the reviews though, they were greatly appreciated. I'm so happy that so many of you like and continued to like this story. Some people thought that there was a bit too much angst in the last two chapters, this might be because originally they were intended to be one super chapter but I cut it down to two as it felt more natural. A few of you mentioned the engagement, that is brought up here, I don't want to say much more. Also, sorry for such a horrible cliff-hanger, it was never meant to last this long and I will do my best to make sure that there isn't such a huge wait next time. I've already got planned what's happening next so hopefully it shouldn't take anywhere near as long.**

**Anyway, thank you again for being so patient and I really hope you like where I've taken this.**

Chapter Twenty: In the Blink of an Eye

Harry blinked. He didn't know what he had been expecting, but it certainly hadn't been that. Maybe a rush of colour, the sun rushing around the Earth, even the time ticking off a clock would've been _something_. One second he was staring out into a busy room and the next nobody was where they were supposed to be. He had been expecting the odd man: Miller to be standing in front of him, the assistant Civet to be loitering behind him and maybe Daphne to be in the corner. Instead everything was different. The room next door was empty and before him stood Miller, his outfit completely different from the one that he had been wearing before and a nervous looking Civet whose eyes began to widen and his mouth hang open as his gaze fell on Harry.

It didn't take Harry's years as an aruro to realise that something wrong. Very wrong. What the hell had happened? But even as his mind began searching for an answer he could feel the dull dread of realisation settling in his stomach. No. It must be something else. It had to be. Didn't it?

"What happened?" He asked, desperately searching for another answer than the one that was so glaringly obvious. Different clothes, different people and an absentee audience could only add up to one thing. He'd been gone for more than a second, much more. But how long? Days? Weeks? Months? Harry tried to force himself to calm down, taking a deep breath and waiting expectantly as nothing but silence greeted his words.

"There… there was a complication," Civet answered when Miller said nothing as he was too preoccupied with silently studying Harry. His eyes flicked up and down, taking in every detail. He hummed to himself, giving a tiny nod before reaching for his wand. Harry felt himself instinctively reach for his own. A lifetime of having curses thrown at him had taught him to beware drawn wands, even in seemingly benevolent hands.

"What kind of complication?" He asked, keeping a wary eye on the odd unspeakable. "And what's he going to do with that?"

Miller didn't even bother replying, so Civet answered hurriedly, "He's just conducting a standard medical test," Civet's voice was nervous and higher pitched than Harry remembered it being before. In fact, he was almost certain that he could the man sweating. "It's perfectly safe. There's no need to -"

"You said something about a complication?" Harry pressed, cutting across the floundering unspeakable. It wasn't hard to imagine that Civet never left his lab, in fact, Harry doubted that he'd dealt with a real human being outside of the people he was used to for years. A fact which was doing nothing to help Harry's rapidly shortening temper.

"Ah," Civet swallowed, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. Miller tutted, rolling his eyes but keeping his words to himself. "Well, as you know you were meant to travel forwards for a… erm, minute."

"Meant?"

"It was a little longer," Civet weaselled, his sallow skin was burning red as Harry's gaze intensified. He was practically wilting.

"How long?" Harry demanded through gritted teeth. His heart was pounding as endless possibilities raced through his mind, far too many of them centring round the tears of the godson he'd sworn that he'd never abandon. A sickening feeling settled in Harry's stomach as the seconds dragged by. Civet's mouth opened once or twice, but nothing but silence greeted Harry's question.

"Erm…"

"How." Harry said, his voice shaking a little as he fought desperately to keep his anger in check. "Long?"

"Three weeks," Civet muttered eventually. Somewhere something exploded. Civet shrieked, his arms going to his head in an effort to defend himself. Even the unflappable Miller took a wary step back, his wand still in his hand and his eyes darting between Harry and the now destroyed time-turner pieces which had been stacked neatly on the desk to Harry's left. But Harry hadn't really noticed. All that he could see was the time that for him had gone in the blink of an eye. Three whole weeks. Yes, it didn't sound that long, but so much could change in that time. Had they even known when he'd be coming back? Or had those three weeks been thought of as the beginning of a waiting game which may never end?

"What happened?" Harry heard himself ask as he ran a hand through his hair.

"There an unexpected outside factor which we had not taken into consideration," Miller replied, filling in for the now useless Civet who was staring at the debris left by Harry's finally snapped temper. It wasn't usual for trained wizard's to lose control like that, but it could happen. "Specifically, your previous time-turner use."

"What does that have anything to do with it? It's a bloody time-turner, so what if I used one before?"

"It wasn't on your records and as such we did not calibrate our new model to account for any residual temporal energy. To put it simply, three turns then made for three weeks now. Had we known then we may well have been able to adapt, in fact I am certain that we would have and yet," both of his hands moved, gesturing widely to the lab, "here we are."

Harry was silent for a moment, his brain reeling as he slowly processed the implications of Miller's explanation. "So just because you didn't think to ask me a simple question I lost three weeks of my life?"

"We conducted the necessary background checks, your records indicated that you had never had possession of a time-turner, so we proceeded as planned. In our positions you would have done exactly the same. Time-turners are famously difficult to obtain and given the nature of your foray into the past it was exceptionally unlikely that we would have presumed you had used one. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, Sirius Black escaped himself. Do not misunderstand me, I am not blaming you for hiding it, given the many regulations that you and Miss Granger flouted it is understandable that you told no-one."

"We didn't hide it," Harry snapped, "it's just nobody's business, that's all." He was sick of people poking their noses in, for once could they not just stay out of his private life?

"Evidently it was ours," Miller pointed out. "The time-turner wasn't the issue, had you simply been more forthcoming then we may have avoided this entire issue."

"Do you actually hear yourself when you talk?" Harry heard a voice ask from the doorway. He wheeled around, the flare of anger which had made his fists curl and almost sent him lunging for the irritating unspeakable dying like a flame in a hurricane, standing in the door an eyebrow raised and scorn on her lips was none other Daphne Greengrass. Behind stood her boss, Luidhard. His face was a mixture of relief and concern.

"Greengrass? Your suspension has been lifted I see," Miller said, having enough sense to move away from Harry.

"You always were observant," Daphne noted sarcastically, her eyes were fixed on him, as if she couldn't quite bring herself to look in Harry's direction.

"Do you have everything that you need?" Luidhard asked, steering the conversation back the realm of relevance and away from squabbling.

"For the moment," Miller nodded.

"Then if you would be so kind as to discuss it with me back in my office," it wasn't a question.

Civet didn't need any more of an excuse and Miller wasn't exactly far behind. When their footsteps had died away, Daphne finally let her gaze fall on Harry. Any ideas that had been forming at the back of Harry's mind to blame Daphne, to let the anger that had been building up ever since his sudden realisation that the world had carried on without him for so long, died as soon as her eyes met his. All of the confidence that usually lay there was gone, instead Harry saw an all too familiar expression: regret.

"I can't believe you're actually here," she breathed. "I've been thinking about this for so long and now that you're really back…"

"Bit of a shock," Harry finished, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice despite himself. Despite the guilt that was obvious all over her face, a tiny part of him couldn't help but blame her. This had been her test after all, but then, he'd been the one to volunteer. It was just like Andromeda had said, he'd had to go and play hero, but at what cost? "I know the feeling."

"Harry, I am so sorry. If I'd known… I didn't think it would ever happen like this." She faltered. "No, that's a lie." She sighed, biting at her lip. "I promised myself I wouldn't lie to you, so here's the truth. I did. But I tried to convince myself it wouldn't and when I couldn't I got scared, I lashed out and then before I could fix it you were gone."

"So that's why you were being so weird," Harry said, finally understanding the argument which for him had only been a day ago, yet for her it was three weeks in her past. Knowing Daphne she'd been obsessing on it ever since. It only took a single look at her for him to realise that he was right. The guilt was practically etched in her face, and it wasn't just because of how long she'd sent him away for.

"Partly," Daphne admitted in a small voice. "But also because it wasn't just anyone that was doing the test. It was you." She paused, as if trying to psyche herself up. Harry remained completely silent, waiting. He had long since learned that pushing Daphne would lead her closing herself off, if she was going to tell him then it would be in her own time. "I was scared of what would happen to you if something went wrong and what I'd do if you weren't here anymore."

"Daph -"

"No, I'm not done," Daphne said, holding up a hand. "These last three weeks have been some of the worst of my entire life. I blamed myself for what happened," Harry let out an exasperated sigh, he didn't mean to but he couldn't help it. As much as a part of him wanted to blame Daphne, he knew that he couldn't. If Miller was right and this had simply been a mistake, then how could she possibly be at fault? "Don't look at me like that, it's true. But that's not what I'm trying to say, well it kind of is, but not really." She let out a frustrated noise. "Look, I missed you and I had no idea how long you'd be gone. Well, in the beginning anyway, I figured it out eventually. But what I mean is that not knowing when you'd be back it was impossible. And it made me realise that I care about you, a lot and that I don't know what I'd do if you weren't in my life."

Harry stood there stunned, not quite sure to say and not entirely sure what she meant. Apparently his shocked silence went on too long because Daphne was suddenly speaking again, "you don't have to say anything. I just, I wanted to tell you, so there it is. I spent far too long lying to myself, I couldn't carry on lying to you as well."

And that was when it clicked. She wasn't talking about him like a friend, but rather something else. All the fears that he'd been at the heart of a one-sided relationship vanished, self-doubt and panic that she didn't, wouldn't feel the same, evaporated. Harry couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face, and even if he could, he didn't want to.

"You aren't the only one," Harry said, breaking the silence that had fallen between them.

"Sorry?"

"You aren't the only one that was lying to themselves," Harry explained. He'd thought about telling her for so long, it was strange for the words finally be said out loud. He'd imagined doing it so many different ways, over dinner, at the Quidditch game the day before, or maybe even after a family meal. In none of his dreams had he pictured doing it in a lab after a failed experiment. But then, he had never imagined being the one to tell him first either. "I've wanted to tell you for ages but I could never think of how to do it and even when I did I thought you wouldn't feel the same."

"You mean?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded.

"Even after all this?"

"It wasn't your fault," Harry told her, somewhere along the way distance had closed between them. He wasn't sure which one of them had moved first, or maybe they both had. "Seriously, you can't blame yourself."

"I tried that," Daphne said, "it didn't work."

"Then maybe I can try and convince you," Harry suggested, his voice soft as he leant forwards and gently kissed her. It wasn't like how he had imagined it would be, he thought he would feel sick or nervous, but instead he just felt comfortable, like this was exactly where he was meant to be. Daphne stayed still for a moment and then before he knew it, she was kissing him back, her hands taking fistfuls of his jacket and pulling him closer.

"So did that help?" Harry asked when they broke apart, a goofy grin on his face.

"A little," Daphne shrugged, a small smile of her own brightening her already beautiful face.

"Good, I know how much all this means to you, I wouldn't want anything to ruin that."

"Meant," Daphne corrected.

"What?"

"It's over." Daphne told him, the smile disappearing. "The papers got a hold of what happened, Luidhard put me on leave and told me that once you came back that the project would be cancelled. It's too toxic."

"You're kidding?"

"No, the time-turners will be restored back to their original conditions. I have no idea who by, whoever Luidhard assigns, I guess. Technically I wasn't even meant to be here today."

"But that's not fair," Harry objected. It wasn't like it was the time-turner that had been at fault. It had been an administrative error, one which Harry wasn't going to admit to Miller but knew he was partly responsible for. Over the years he had always let the rumours of his adventures take the spotlight, never actually bothering to correct them. Even in the aftermath of the war Harry had kept to himself, letting others tell the tales of victory to the papers and allowing rumour and speculation to fill in the gaps. Had he not been so reluctant to tell Daphne about his life at Hogwarts then maybe none of this would have happened.

"It's the way it is," Daphne shrugged dejectedly.

"No," Harry said, shaking his head. "If I'd been anyone else they'd have let you carry on, right? Not every test is one hundred percent successful, there's always blips. You said that they happen all the time."

"But you're not anyone else," Daphne pointed out. "And this wasn't just a blip. You actually vanished and like I said, we had no idea when you'd be back until a few days ago."

"I thought you said they dropped it?"

"They did, I didn't," Daphne told him.

"But that must've taken you ages, how did you even manage it without access to all of this?"

"It wasn't easy," Daphne admitted. "And I might have to apologise to Tori and dad, I think they were going insane having to put up with me."

"I didn't know I had that effect on you," Harry smirked.

"You didn't, I just wanted to prove this all actually worked," Daphne retorted sarcastically. "It's going to be weird not working on this anymore."

"Is there nothing you can do?"

"No," Daphne sighed, "To be honest, I'm okay with it. Don't get me wrong, it's been amazing, well most of it has. But after everything that happened I kind of want a break from time-turners. There's plenty of other stuff I can do, I came across this book about time-dilation - it was when I was trying to figure out if travelling into the future would have any damaging influences." She took another breath, as if ready to carry on explaining, but then stopped herself. "But that's not important right now. There's places you need to be."

He wasn't about to argue with her. As great as it was to finally have told Daphne how he felt there was somewhere else he needed to be, someone else that needed him.

"Did they know? That I was coming back I mean."

"Andromeda's expecting you, Hermione knows too, I don't really know about Ron I assume she's told him."

"What do you mean?"

"We… had a bit of disagreement." Daphne explained awkwardly before quickly adding, "but don't worry about that now. We can fix that later. Go and see Teddy. It's Saturday, by the way, in case you were wondering."

"Won't they need to do more tests?" Harry asked, although it was only half-heartedly. There was nothing more in the world that he wanted in that moment than to see Teddy.

"Maybe, but we can do those later. I'll cover for you if they say anything. Go on, go see him, I know you want to."

"Thanks Daph, I'll see you later," Harry grinned and went to head out, but just as he reached the door he turned, taking on last look at her. There was only a moment of hesitation and then he was back by her side and kissing her once more. "Right," he said once they had broken apart, "now I'm really going."

oOo

The sun was hanging high in the sky when Harry arrived outside the Tonks household. It was quiet, only the noise of birds could be heard. It so far away from any muggles, so as they couldn't accidentally stumble upon an old witch and her grandson, that the sounds of cars and trucks were so far away that they could not be heard. It was brief slice of tranquillity, one which differed hugely from the hubbub of the Ministry that Harry, with more than a few glamour charms to disguise himself, had just fought his way through.

He didn't move for a moment, instead staring at the cottage. Three weeks. It had been three weeks since he had last been here. Yet for him, it had only been a day. For him Andromeda had only just warned him to be careful. A pang of guilt which was far too real to be ignored shot through him. If only he'd listened or thought about what might happen then maybe this would never happened. But he hadn't, he'd just wanted to help the woman he loved and ignored anything that suggested that it would be a bad idea. He knew he wasn't the only one to blame, that it wasn't even truly his fault. It had been an accident. But he couldn't shake the guilt regardless. He'd sworn that he would never leave Teddy and that he would always be there for his godson. But he hadn't and the pain of that was going to be with him a long time.

Twigs and gravel crunched under his feet as he slowly began to make his way towards the house. Now that he was here, actually walking towards them, Harry couldn't stop the many stories that his brain had concocted, stories that he had desperately been trying to shut out. All the possibilities of how leaving could have affected Teddy, how the tiny boy might feel rejected, abandoned or lost without his godfather. How would have coped? Would he even have understood what was going on? If there was thing Harry was sure of, it was that Andromeda would have told Teddy.

She hated secrets, especially between family. Harry couldn't blame her. After all, her husband had died trying to protect her without telling her, her cousin hadn't been the mass-murderer that everyone thought he had been and her daughter had hidden her love for a werewolf for the best part of a year. So if there was one person that wasn't going to sugar-coat the truth, no matter how painful, it was Andromeda. She would have been right too, Harry knew, because Teddy had a right to know.

The fist he raised to knock stayed hovering just in front of the door. Seconds dragged by, all Harry had wanted was to his godson again but now that he was actually there it felt all too real. A selfish instinct within him was desperate to leave, so as he didn't have to face the disappoint or the tears that might come. No. Harry had promised himself that he would always be there for Teddy. No matter what.

The knock hollow against the dull wood, the sunlight casting Harry's dark shadow over the door. There were a few brief moments of silence, then muffled footsteps and within seconds the door was pulled back to reveal the face of Andromeda Tonks. She stared at him, not saying anything, her face empty, not shocked just blank. Then her brow furrowed in Harry was all too familiar with.

"You're late," was all she said, her voice serious and her eyes dark.

"Erm," Harry managed, any words or speeches that he'd been planning in the long walk up the drive and the terrible moment at the front door vanishing from his lips. Had his trip really effected them that badly? What had happened? Did she blame him for whatever had happened to Teddy? Harry was so bewildered that he almost didn't notice the brief flicker of a smile pulling at the corner of her mouth. And then she really was smiling and a wave of relief washed over Harry as the blind panic faded.

"Welcome home," Andromeda beamed as she pulled him into a warm, firm hug which Harry gratefully returned.

"That was not funny. Never do that again," Harry said.

"I could say the same to you," Andromeda countered without even a hint of real anger in her voice. Instead it was just concern. She pulled away from him, taking a small step back into her home. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Harry assured her. "How about you?"

"Better for seeing you," Andromeda smiled sadly. "Now come in, I've got someone here who's dying to see you."

It didn't take long for Harry to find out who she was talking about. There was an excited scream almost as soon as the door shut and Harry stepped into the house, which was then followed by the sound of running and a tiny something slamming into him.

"Uncle Harry's back!" Teddy Lupin shouted excitedly, holding onto Harry's midriff for dear life. "Uncle Harry!"

"Hey kiddo," Harry grinned, stooping down so as he could pick up his godson. Any worries about Teddy hating him for leaving vanished almost instantly as he looked at the small boy's excited grin. Harry bent down and scooped up his godson who giggled happily. All the anger, guilt and some other stuff he had even had time to process yet seemed to fade as he held his godson in his arms.

"I told you he'd be back!" Teddy beamed.

"Always," Harry vowed, his voice cracking a little. "I'm never going anywhere again, I promise you. Both of you."

"Really?" Teddy asked hopefully, his eyes wide and full of childlike innocence.

"Really," it wasn't just a promise to his godson or Andromeda. It was a promise to himself. He'd been stupid, selfish. There were people counting on him, being an auror he'd always felt isolated from that reality. He took risks everyday, it had just been something that happened. But leaving like that, abandoning them, there was no way he could ever do that again. The one thing he'd promised himself all those years ago was to not be absent like Sirius had been, no matter how accidentally he had broken that promise once already. There wasn't going to be a second time.

The rest of the afternoon vanished in a whirl of games and making up for lost time with Teddy. It was only when Harry had taken Teddy up to bed that the conversation that had been hanging in the air between him and Andromeda was broached.

"What was it like?" she asked, her hands clasping a piping hot mug of tea and the smile that had brightened her face all day conspicuous by its absence. The sun was just setting casting a reddish light across her as she looked at Harry. Autumn may be fast approaching but summer was still dragging out the days.

"It was nothing, just like blinking." Harry told her.

"So for you yesterday was weeks ago?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded, a little guilty, he recognised the pain in her voice. "I'm sorry."

"Good," Andromeda said, "I warned you about those things, Harry. I told you they weren't safe and what did you do?"

Harry stayed silent, he'd been expecting this, but that didn't make it any easier. For all the relief and happiness, Andromeda had still had to face losing him for good, just like everyone else he had let her down. The only reason this hadn't come earlier was because of Teddy. But Teddy wasn't going to hear this and so Harry was fair game.

"You didn't listen to me." Andromeda filled in. "I even asked you not to do it, again, what did you do?"

"I'm sorry, I really am. If I could go back, stop myself from doing it, I would. But I can't."

"This isn't the old days, Harry, you can't just go rushing in like you've got nothing to lose."

"Don't you think I know that?"

"Evidently not, you're making decisions for more than just yourself. You've been good to Teddy, you always have, but you can't just put everything at risk like that again. I know why you felt like you had to do it, you were just trying to help, but you can't fix everything, Harry. There would've been others, someone, anyone else. I don't care who, just… just not you."

"I'm not going anywhere again," Harry said gently, moving over to Andromeda. He could see the tears beginning to shimmer in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall. "I should've listened to you."

"Yes, you should," Andromeda agreed, her voice absent of the coldness he had been expecting. Instead, she just sounded forlorn. It would have been better if she was angry, this was just heart-breaking.

"Well, from now on I will," Harry promised, he leant against the arm of her chair, pulling her into a one arm hug. He felt her head rest against his shoulder and it took all he had not to cry himself. It was one thing realising that he'd left them, abandoned them. It was quite another to actually see it. They stayed like that for a long moment, neither of them saying anything. There was nothing that could be said. No apology was ever going to be good enough. It was going to take time, but someday he'd prove that he wasn't just dishing out meaningless words. He really, truly meant this.

"Good," Andromeda said eventually, her head still resting against his shoulder. "Because I'm not always going to be here to look after him, Harry."

"Don't talk like that."

"Why not? It's the truth, you know that more than anyone." She paused for a moment, letting out a small sigh. "What happened to you it's made us all think. For all we knew you could've been gone for months, years even. We got lucky. You're back. But that doesn't change anything. Don't misunderstood me, I'm glad you're home. But you're a constant in his life… our lives. Seeing you just disappear like that, it was hard. It made me realise just how fragile life can be sometimes. I tried to forget, after Dora and Remus and… Ted. But someday the same is going to happen to me and that's okay. When it does, you have to promise me you'll be here for him."

"I promise," Harry said quickly, earnestly for he needed to really understand that he meant it. "I never thought anything like this would happen, really. I just wanted to help. If I'd known -"

"I know, I know you'd never leave him or me or any of us on purpose. But next time think before you leap."

"I will," Harry promised.

"That's good enough for me," Andromeda said forcing a thin smile as she finally pulled away from him. "Now, it's getting late and I think there's somebody else you should see."

"Ron?" Harry guessed, but it wasn't difficult, the pained look on Andromeda's face gave it away almost instantly. "Daph told me, sort of, she was kind of vague."

"Hmm," Andromeda murmured. "Why does that not surprise me?"

"What's that mean?"

"That both she and Ron did things they ought not to be proud of." Andromeda explained, somewhat cryptically. At Harry's look of clear bewilderment she continued. "They both missed you and when the Greengrass girl explained what happened Ron did not take it well. In fact he blamed her, which as you can imagine went down like dragon dung," Harry let out a low groan Daphne's hesitancy suddenly making sense. "They got into a shouting match until I threw the pair of them out and then to make matters worse -"

"There's more?"

"She ambushed Hermione a few days later, asking about that time-turner you two used to save Sirius. Don't ask me why but she didn't think to ask Hermione if it was an alright time, I think she had known what was happening she'd have waited."

"Why?"

"Ron and Hermione are engaged," Andromeda said plainly. Harry stared his brain freezing for a moment shock clouding all of his senses. Yes, he'd been expecting it at some point, sure. But every time he had imagined it he had always been there to celebrate with his two best friends. In his head Ron had taken him aside, asked what he thought and then Harry had egged him on and watched knowingly from a few tables away as Ron popped the question. He had never been expecting this.

"I was only gone three weeks," Harry heard himself say eventually as his brain began to kick back into gear.

"Like I said it was hard you being gone, we all realised how fast things can change. I think it gave him the push he needed." Andromeda explained. "The party was sweet, you'd have liked it. Except the part where he found Greengrass on his doorstep." Harry felt his heart sink, the sudden warmth that had filled it over his two best friends finally realising that they were going to get married – like everyone else had for years – faded. "It wasn't pretty. The healer friend, what's her name?"

"Tracey,"

"Well, she was there too and she didn't take kindly to how Ron spoke to Greengrass. In fact, she slapped him. Though, I must say he did deserve it. He said that you'd hate Greengrass when you got back and that you'd blame her like he had."

"No way," Harry breathed, "but I'd never do that." It was true, least of all because Harry had taken on so much of the blame himself. The pain on her face, the hours he'd spent playing with Teddy and the talk he'd just had with Andromeda all made him feel worse. He should've thought it through, listened to Daphne and Andromeda and not just assumed that everything would be okay. This wasn't her fault, it had been an accident and one that only he could have avoided. It had been he who had volunteered, ignored advice and not really thought about the prospect of it going wrong.

"Daph didn't want any of this," Harry continued.

"I know that and so does Ron really, he was just angry. I can understand why. You and he have only just started talking again after everything that happened with her."

"You can say her name, I don't mind."

"I'd rather not," Andromeda said bitterly. "Everything may not have been perfect but it was still no excuse. But my point is, he'd just got you back and then you disappeared before he had chance to make up for all that lost time. And you know how he gets."

"Irrational and stubborn, yeah, I do." Harry muttered, he'd been on the end of Ron's anger before. It wasn't a nice place to be, particularly when he was protecting his friends. Harry had only ever experienced Ron's jealousy he had no idea what it would be like to face his best mate's protective rage.

"It was hard for everyone," Andromeda said again.

"How about you, do you blame Daph?"

"I did, for a while," Andromeda admitted, "but she kept me in the loop, gave me updates every day about how her tests were going and when she finally figured out when you'd be home she told me straight away. She didn't have to do that. It meant a lot that she did. So, while she may not be my favourite person in the world right now, no, I don't blame her. This was an accident. Neither of you are at fault, even both of you could have done with thinking it through a bit more and don't think I don't know you're blaming yourself."

"I thought I was hiding it quite well."

"You thought wrong," Andromeda said, a small smile gracing her lips. "You're too kind for your own good and that includes taking the blame for things that are not to be laid at your door. And yes, I realise that saying that won't help and that you're still going to do it regardless."

"Probably," Harry nodded. "But thank you anyway."

"You're welcome, it's what family's for. Now go on, it's getting late."

"Okay," Harry sighed as he got to his feet. He stepped away from Andromeda, collecting his jacket from the chair. She led him silently to the door and once the door was opened letting in the cool summer night air Harry wrapped Andromeda in a firm hug. He stood there for a while putting all his remorse and gratitude, every ounce of feeling that he could muster. Accident or not she had been right to accuse him of not thinking, of not realising how dire the consequences could be, a mistake he would never make again.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Harry said once they had broken apart.

"Yes, see you tomorrow," Andromeda smiled. "Try not to be too harsh on either of them."

"I won't be," Harry assured her before giving a final wave and heading back up the garden path. He hadn't realised how much he had missed when they had told him he had been gone three weeks. But as he traipsed out of the magical boundaries of Andromeda's garden, the full reality of just how different this world was began to sink in. His friends were engaged, his best friend and Daphne had fought, perhaps broken any chance at a friendship forever and Merlin only knew what else. Life really could be fragile sometimes, Harry just hoped it was not beyond repair.


	21. Nowhere I'd Rather Be

Chapter Twenty One: Nowhere I'd Rather Be

The sun hung brightly in the sky, banishing the clouds that had the previous day been hiding its light. Summer was drawing to and end but there were still some days of glorious heat to enjoy. At least, that's what most people were saying to one another as they happily walked by. Harry though, he was too preoccupied to enjoy it. His little trip had messed with so many lives and there were still some things that needed fixing. And then there were those things that were just plain new and unexpected.

"Hey," Harry turned to see Daphne walking towards him, she was dressed in a formal blouse and skirt as she had come from work but even so she still looked the most beautiful woman there. It felt like he had never really seen her before. It wasn't just her looks, it was the fact he knew her, really knew her and that just made her more beautiful in his eyes.

"Hi," Harry smiled, aware of how dopey his grin must seem but not really caring. She rolled her eyes at him but smirked back at him, her eyes dancing in the morning sunlight. There was a small moment of hesitation as the gap closed between them, so slight that Harry almost missed it, he almost dismissed it as nothing but then Daphne was in front of him, closer than usual but leaning up for a kiss and suddenly it made sense. She was unsure how to act. All this time and still there were things that surprised him.

He leant down, waiting a brief second, making sure it was what she wanted too. It only took the smallest of movements and the shadow of a smile to flicker across her face for him to know.

"Do you want to go inside?" Harry asked somewhat nervously when they had pulled apart after a longer kiss than he'd been expecting. She nodded and together they headed into the café, Harry hurrying to hold the door for her and earning himself a disparaging, yet teasing look for his troubles. But he was nothing if not a gentleman.

They easily found a table, the lunch time rush hadn't started yet and thanks to Daphne's new research project she could take time off whenever she liked.

"How's work?" Harry asked once they had ordered their drink and settled down at the small table away from the centre of the café and by the window. Daphne, Harry knew, liked to sit where she could see the muggle world passing by. She was curiously fascinated by them, how their lives worked, what it was like to be without magic. More often than not, Harry would catch her looking past him and intently watching the people that hurried by.

"It's okay, busy," Daphne replied, her eyes, not flitting to the street as they so often did, but instead remaining fixed on Harry. Almost as if he was the only thing that mattered in the room. "This stage of the project always is, narrowing down research parameters, finding materials, theories and attempting to develop them into practice, that kind of thing. But it's been good for me to get back into it again."

"You said it was time-dilation, right?" Left unsaid was the apology for just why Daphne hadn't been able to get back to work. Somehow Harry doubted that she would appreciate it, partly because he knew that she still blamed herself but also because she was vehemently against him taking any responsibility. But Daphne had had longer to come to terms with it.

"Yes, it's actually rather unexplored. I'd thought more people would have looked into it. The implications alone are staggering."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, take prisons. You throw people in Azkaban for years, decades at a time. If we can get this formula right then you wouldn't have to. It changes it so how time is experienced. Say we made it into a potion and someone took that, to them a day be could like a year, or a month like a whole life time. It effects how that person lives their life, for every second we observe them they feel as if they're living minutes. So instead of putting a criminal in Azkaban for a decade, you could just put in there for a few days and to them it would feel like ten years had gone by when actually it hadn't. Don't get me wrong, we're only at an early stage and this could take months to perfect but I think it could be astounding."

"Look at you, changing the world," Harry grinned.

"I prefer nudging in the right direction," Daphne smirked. "How about you, have you managed to see Matthews yet?"

"Earlier yeah," the aging auror had been her usual blunt, brusque and straight-forward self. The reprimand that Harry had received had been unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Everyone else had been kind, asked how he was and if he was ready to come back. Matthews had shouted at him for being irresponsible and unthinking. "It went well."

"Told you she'd give you the job."

"Technically she still hasn't, I'm still on probation."

"Practically the same thing," Daphne said dismissively, waving her hand.

"You just don't want to be wrong."

"I very rarely am," Daphne teased, but then her faltered slightly and Harry knew that she was remembering the times when she had been wrong. Harry sighed but there was nothing he could do and he knew it. This was something Daphne could only deal with herself. That didn't mean that he wasn't going to be there for her, listen to her or not, whatever she needed. But in the end the only person who Daphne needed forgiveness from was herself.

Harry wanted to avoid what he had to say next, the real reason that he'd asked Daphne to meet wasn't just that he wanted to see her – though that was a part of it. But he knew he couldn't. It was just delaying the inevitable. She had a right to know, after all.

"I saw Ron a few days ago," Harry said hurriedly, the words tripping out of his mouth as he eagerly tried to get it over with. "When I got back actually. I know what happened between you two."

"Let me guess, you couldn't just sit there and not try and help," Daphne prompted, an almost despairing tone to her voice. It wasn't that she was angry, Harry knew what an angry Daphne looked like. There would be more shouting, or possibly silence. This was different. As if she'd been expecting him to do just what he had done. Harry wondered idly when he'd become such an open book.

"Pretty much, yeah."

"And how did that work out?"

oOo

_Two days earlier…_

"Harry?"

Harry stood unsure and confused in the corridor and forced a smile onto his face as the bewildered gaze of one of his best childhood friends greeted him. Daphne had said that they knew he was coming, but that still, apparently, didn't stop Hermione looking as if she'd been stunned. The bright artificial lights illuminated every inch of her frozen face as she stared dumbfounded at him.

"Hey," was all Harry's brain could manage to come up with. In the face of Hermione's disbelief any preparation that he had, which admittedly hadn't been much, had sailed out of the window. There was nothing where words should be, instead just a big black hole filled only with confusion and nervousness.

"You're back," Hermione breathed. There was a short awkward moment of continued staring and then her face split into a smile and suddenly Harry was crushed under the force of a bone-snapping hug, a hug he was only more than happy to reciprocate.

"Ron! Ron! Come here!"

"What's going on?" Ron's confused and befuddled voice asked from the living room. Harry's vision was blinded by the sheer amount of bushy hair that was in his face so all he could hear were the footsteps of his earliest friend hurrying towards him. Harry almost froze because he knew what was going to happen. After the happiness and the relief there was only one way this conversation was going to go and it was one which Harry wished with all his heart that he could avoid. But even as he hoped that he could he remembered the look on Daphne's face, the guilt and the pain that had tormented her for days on end. He had to do that. If not for himself then for her. She deserved it.

"See for yourself," Hermione beamed, stepping away from Harry. There in the space that her hair had been filling stood Ron. His hair was dishevelled and small bags hung under his eyes, whatever he'd been doing he looked exhausted. But that exhaustion seemed to vanish as he realised what he was looking at. Harry had never really thought of Ron as a hugger, not like Hermione, but as soon as he laid eyes on Harry, Ron had closed the gap between them and was gripping his friend in a tight hug.

It was a lot shorter than Hermione's, but there was no surprise there. Ron had never really been great at expressing his emotions. He still wasn't if what Andromeda had said was anything to go by.

"It's good to have you back, mate," Ron grinned.

"Good to be back," Harry said, forcing a smile. "Mind if I come in?"

"Yeah, sorry," Ron said quickly, stepping back. Hermione sung the door shut behind Harry as he and Ron headed into the living room. It was exactly as Harry remembered it, almost. There was still the obsessive cleanliness and order, especially in the bookshelves that lined the walls and the way that the various photos that lined the walls were still spirit-level straight. But there was a subtle difference. Some of Ron's things were scattered around the room, a leaflet for Weasley's Wizard Wheezes lay open on the table along with a few messy notes and the outer part of his robe was thrown lazily over the sofa. In the old days Hermione would have cleaned that up in an instant. They were living together. Finally. It was the only thing that made sense. When he had visited he'd been forced to abide by her strict regime, but this, this was a mixture of both.

"Do you want a drink?" Ron asked, unable to wipe the cheery grin off his face.

"I'm good, thanks." Harry shrugged as he sank slowly down onto the sofa. Ron shrugged before happily throwing himself down in the chair to Harry's left. Hermione perched on the arm her won expression more reserved than Ron's, but hadn't that always been the case? There was a long silence filled with only the awkward tension of nobody being quite sure what to say next, after all, there wasn't really an etiquette for dealing with a time-travel accident.

"So," Harry said, breaking the silence, "you're engaged. Congratulations. Sorry they're a little late."

"What?" Ron spluttered.

"But how did you -" Hermione began.

"The ring and the fact Ron's clearly living here now, I mean let's face it there's no way you'd let him get away with this mess if he was just visiting," Harry answered, "that and Andromeda told me when I went round earlier."

"We were going to tell you," Ron said hurriedly. "You're not angry, are you?"

"Why would I be angry?"

"Because we got engaged the one time you weren't here to see it?"

"Well, I'll be here for the wedding so it's not all bad," Harry shrugged. He couldn't be mad at them, his disappearance was the exact reason that Ron had finally realised what everyone else had known for years. That he and Hermione were made for each other, they might fight and drive each other insane at times, but the love that one felt for the other was undeniable. "Don't get me wrong, I wish you'd done this ages ago, but for your sakes."

"Yeah, well, I've always been a bit thick," Ron admitted sheepishly. "I only asked because -"

"I know," Harry said quickly. He didn't want to hear it. Yes, their engagement was amazing, it was wonderful but at the same it had come from Ron's heartbreak and realisation that nothing was permanent and the reminder that everything had its time and could vanish in heartbeat. "I know. I'm sorry."

"What do you mean you're sorry?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah, it wasn't your fault," Ron protested.

"That's what Andromeda said," Harry told them. "I know she's right and I know you're right really, but I went in there without thinking it through like I always do only this time…" he sighed, his hand coming up and rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses. "I left people behind, I left you behind and the worst is you had no idea when I'd be back. I can only imagine how that would feel. If it were either of you that had happened to I don't know what I'd have done. I never wanted this. Any of it."

"We know," Hermione assured him. "But you're back now, that's what matters."

"Doesn't fix everything though, does it?" Harry asked, a little spitefully than he'd have liked but his head was beginning to throb and he could feel the tiredness behind his eyes. How long had he even been awake? Did the last three weeks count or not? "And it's not going to, not for a long time."

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked gently, sharing a quick glance with Ron who just shrugged and looked confused.

"Andromeda told me what happened, everything. That's how I know about you guys having no clue when I'd be back, it's how I know how much Teddy missed me, and it's how I know what happened with Daphne. She didn't mean for any of this and you…" his gaze fell on Ron and stayed there. In the many months since he'd been away from the field Harry had never once felt like an auror at the height of a case, but as he stared into Ron's eyes that old feeling stirred again. It was almost like a game, trying to figure out the other person's hand without being in any kind of control over.

"You told her that she did." Harry continued, his voice was quiet and level but it took all he had not it let it shake, to stop it from betraying the coiling emotions that threatened to burst from under the surface. "That it was her fault. But worst of all, Ron, you told her that I would never forgive her for what she did. How could think for even one second that that would be true? After everything we've been through, don't you know me better than that?"

There was a stunned silence, but it was different to one that had when they had seen him. Where that had been hopeful this was almost guilty, like an accused man who had hired all the right lawyers and barristers because he couldn't rely on the truth to save his skin. Hermione bit her lip, looking as if she was stopping herself from interrupting.

"Why did you say it?" Harry asked when Ron remained silent.

"Why'd you think? After all that stuff that happened with Ginny we've only just you back and then you disappear, how was I meant to react?"

"By not taking it out on Daphne?" Harry suggested finding it harder and harder with each passing second to stay calm. There were some lines that shouldn't be crossed. What Ron had said was one of them. He understood loss and the crippling, soul-destroying pain that came with it. But it was no excuse. "Hermione didn't do what you did and she was there! So why did you? Daphne did nothing wrong."

"She didn't do much right either, mate."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You know what it means, she's the one that convinced you to put yourself down for it. Yeah, okay, she didn't intentionally do any of that stuff but without her it wouldn't have happened either. You'd have still been here."

"First off, no, she didn't. I'm the one that volunteered Ron. Me. It wasn't her, even if she had asked, I still had to yes. If anything, she tried to talk me out of it, just like Andromeda. But I didn't listen and did it anyway, but you wouldn't know that, would you? You didn't ask." Harry paused, running a hand over his face and trying very hard not to lose his temper. Why could Ron not see what he'd done?

"How would you have felt if that had been Hermione I'd done that too?" Harry asked in a bid to try and make Ron realise the ramifications of his mistake. "Say she'd done the same, asked you to do something and you got hurt and then I'd gone and lashed out, blamed her without even thinking. How would you feel then, Ron?"

"But you'd never - that's a completely different thing."

"Is it? Why?"

"It just is," Ron spluttered indignantly.

"Oh Ron," Hermione sighed. "Don't you get it?"

"What? It's not like Harry loves her or anything." Ron argued back, Hermione faltered, her eyes darting to Harry. Of course she knew, Harry thought. It would explain a lot too, he realised, why Hermione hadn't reacted as badly as Ron, why she'd kept quiet and not taken sides, all of it. She'd known what Harry had hidden even from himself and what Daphne too had been too scared to admit.

"Wrong again," Harry said stiffly.

"No, no way, you'd have said something." Ron retorted, a frown furrowing his brow. "You'd have told me."

"I'm telling you now," Harry pointed out. "Look I didn't say anything because I've only just realised and because I didn't think it would go anywhere. But even if I didn't, even if we were just friends, what you did still wasn't okay. Daphne spent weeks trying to get me back, weeks doing nothing but figuring out what went wrong and how she could fix it. She already felt so guilty about what happened, when she came here she was trying to help and what did you do? Threw it in her face. You should be ashamed of yourself."

"Mate, I'm sorry, alright? If I'd known –"

"You shouldn't have needed to." Harry snapped bitterly. "And I'm not the one you should be apologising to either."

There was a frosty silence, Harry could feel his heart hammering hard against his rib-cage. It occurred to him that maybe he wasn't being fair, Ron hadn't been in his right mind after all. Grief did strange things to people. But it hadn't just happened once, from what Andromeda had said Ron hadn't given Daphne a chance, instead he'd used her as a glorified punch bag.

"I'll let myself out," Harry said eventually getting to his feet. He teetered there for a second before quickly adding, "congratulations again." And then he turned away heading for the door. He was almost over the threshold to the hallway when he heard Ron's voice.

"Mate, listen –"

"No Ron, you listen." Harry snarled, cutting across his friend. "We're not kids anymore, you can't just throw your toys out the pram every time something goes wrong. Grow up. Accidents happen and I told you before, she didn't do anything. You want someone to blame, blame me. It was my idea. I just wanted to help, I didn't think it could go wrong or what might happen if it did and I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't think about you or Teddy or anyone else. So call me a selfish prick if you like or whatever you want, I don't care. But don't think you have the right to dish out blame on someone else who was just as heart-broken as you."

And with that Harry turned on his heel and left.

oOo

"Well, that could have ended better," Daphne said wincing a little as Harry ended his story. Her hands were clasped around the enormous mug of hot chocolate that she had ordered, the waiter had interrupted just as Harry was filling Daphne in on Ron's reaction and had had the good decency to look apologetic as soon as he had realised the seriousness of the conversation he had stumbled into.

"Yeah, you can say that again," Harry sighed. "I don't know, maybe I was being too harsh. It just got to me, thinking of him saying stuff like that. Especially to you."

"Maybe a little, but It's like you said, no-one else reacted like that. He needed to hear it and not just from me or Trace, admittedly I wasn't exactly great to him either but he was still out of line."

"What would you do?"

"I don't know," Daphne admitted, "I like to think I'd be big enough to forgive him. Somehow I think you will. But I also know that you couldn't care less what people say to you but as soon as they insult people you care about you tend to lose your temper. So, I don't know."

"Would you? Forgive him, I mean?"

"I understand where he's coming from, I always did. That was part of why it upset me so much. I blamed myself as much as he did, it didn't exactly help to hear it from someone else. But it was hard for everyone, we all dealt with it in different ways. My way wasn't great, neither was his. Doesn't make him a bad person."

"It doesn't make it okay either." Harry argued, but he knew what Daphne was saying. This was all fresh for him. Even two days later doubts were starting to set in, what would three weeks do? But it was thing to want to forgive one, it was another to actually do it. So much of his life had been spent living for other people. Harry was just tired of having to be understanding all the time. For once he just wanted to be selfish.

"No, but this is new to you. It's been three weeks, I've had time to calm down."

"Since when were you so understanding?"

"I blame you," Daphne said jokingly. "You're a bad influence."

"Funny, from this side it looks like I'm helping."

"Perspectives can be deceiving," Daphne shrugged flippantly. "And you are quite blind, so you can be forgiven for not being unable to see the difference."

"Alright, I can't help it."

"And I can't help you being wrong but I still have to put up with it," Daphne teased.

"There were times when I wondered why you chose a job centred round isolation and secrecy, suddenly it makes sense now."

"Look at you being funny."

"You must be a bad influence," Harry echoed back to her. She grinned over the rim of her coffee mug and Harry couldn't help but smile back. "No, you're not."

"You say the sweetest things," Daphne replied, with only a trace of sarcasm tinging her words. Typical Daphne, joking when the conversation got serious.

"I'm serious," Harry persisted. He wanted her to know that. Everything with Ron and the newness of whatever this was between them had just made Harry want to tell her more. "Ever since I've known you you've been amazing. You helped me through a lot, I know I wasn't the best company to begin with but you stayed anyway and I can't thank you enough. I wouldn't change it for the world."

"Even after all this?"

"Definitely," Harry promised her.

"But everything you missed out on, that time you lost. Ron's got a point, you know, if I'd never been in your life this wouldn't have happened. Surely you'd want to change that?"

"Not if it meant being without you," Harry admitted and he meant it. Yes, there were things he regretted and had he known the future there were things he may not have done. But he hadn't and there was point dwelling on the past. All that meant was that the future was sacrificed, his future, his life. It was time he started to move on from the past and begin to live in his present. "I am better with you. So no, I wouldn't change anything. Things will get better, they always do. Believe me, I should know."

"You sure about that?"

"Positive."

"And if they don't?" Daphne asked, she sounded nervous. It didn't take a genius to realise why. A combination of guilt and fear. Guilt over the accident and fear of the unknown, of stepping into a relationship with someone, just being with them. It was something, for her. To be vulnerable like that, to share every detail and she was scared. Maybe she thought it was new, but that feeling never went away, not really. The beginning of every relationship was the same, the fears just got quieter.

"Then there's no-one I'd rather face them with," Harry answered. "So how about dinner? Tonight. Anytime and anywhere. Your choice, my treat."

"That would be lovely," Daphne smiled.

"Then it's a date," Harry grinned back before slowly leaning as she did the same and gently kissing her. He didn't care that they were in public, he didn't care that anyone could see. The _Daily Prophet _or _Witch Weekly_ news teams could burst through that door for all it mattered; because for the first time, in a very long time and despite the chaos and wreckage from everything that had happened, in that brief and perfect moment it all seemed to fade because he felt truly happy.

* * *

**AN: So that's almost the end, just one more chapter - an epilogue - to go and then it's done. This might seem like an awkward place to end things, but everything will be wrapped up in the next chapter. I didn't want to drag this story out and I've always promised myself that once they get together that's going to be how it ends. I hope that you all like this. As always, if you've got any comments leave a review or any questions just message me and I'll be happy to help.**


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